Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Today's PET/CT scan was pretty unremarkable.

Get finger poked for fasting glucose level (96) and creatine (good). Wait for my port to be accessed, flushed, injected with radioactive sugar, flushed again, drink cranberry juice-like contrast, take PET scans, have port injected with more contrast, finish CT portion, flush port again and deaccess it.

The worst part for me is having to wait in a dark room for an hour while the radioactive isotope looks for any cancer cells, which are always hungry for sugar. I'm convinced you can literally drive yourself insane if you're alone with just your thoughts and let them roam rampantly and unbridled.

What will the scans show today? What if I don't lie as absolutely still as possible and give myself false readings on the scans? What if the scans show that the chemo isn't touching the lymph nodes? They still feel as large to me as they did at first. What if I need more chemo? What if I need several more rounds of chemo? What if the chemo doesn't work? What's the next step? What if we can never do the transplant? What would Dale do if I die?

OKAY. ENOUGH! Time to stop that train of thought immediately.

Where's your faith, Trish? Yes, you have no control over any of this--except to proceed with faith and a positive approach and learn and grow.

Bottom line: does it matter if I live on the earth a bit longer or die tomorrow as long as I know that Heavenly Father lives, that my Savior lives, that they love me, that they want the best for me, and that I want to follow them and become more like them? What else really matters or could possibly supercede that knowledge and desire? Certainly not silly old afflictions of the mortal body only--like cancer.

Just breathe, Trish. This too shall pass.

I ask to see the pictures from the scans and don't see any orange glowing orbs this time. I'm hoping that means good news and not the more probable--that I have no clue what I'm looking at or for. I give my professional and scientific findings to Dale. No orange glowing orbs = no more chemo.

We'll see :-)