When you are diagnosed with breast cancer, your life is turned upside down. I had so many things going on at once it's a miracle I didn't have a complete breakdown.
You would think chemotherapy would be the worst part of it, but for me I think the scans gave me the most anxiety.
One thing I want you to remember, not one scan can predict where the cancer is, or if you have it. My oncologist told me this after I was freaked out from a bone scan the tech showed me. My oncologist ordered a bone scan, ct scan, PET scan, and MRI.
My husband held my hand through all of this. I was angry because he was so disconnected, but I realize now that was just his way of coping with thiis dreaded disease and me. He wasn't equipped to handle my psychosis. And I was screwed up before I had cancer. Haha.Well, not really a haha moment for me.
First of all, scans are not pleasant especially with a contrast dye. At Westwood Cancer Center, you are brought into this room and given a paper gown, you get very familiar with paper gowns by the way.
"Make sure you take off all jewelry and your bra." The not-so-friendly aid said.
I stepped into a changing room and did as I was instructed. When I came out I put my things in a locker and turned the key.
The aid brought me back to what all I can say is a holding room. There is privacy which is nice, but as I walked passed others, I felt like I'm not suppose to be here. These people are old and I'm only 36. I felt as though there eyes were on me feeling sorry for me and wondering why I was possibly there. At this point my own anxiety was getting the better of me.
The aid brought me two bottles. They call it a milkshake. It's NOT a milkshake. It's a milky like substance that you must ingest prior and it's the grossest thing in the world. What's more it caused awful diareah. It would have been nice to know beforehand that this could have been a possibility so that I could have brought a change of underwear.
I mean you're just sitting there drinking this crap as to what seems forever, and then you get up and notice a stain on the back of your gown. I explained to the aid that I needed another gown. That this milky-like substance was going through me literally.
I guess I inconvienced her or something because she acted like this had never happened before with any other patient. It didn't help that I was embarrassed. I was exposed at my most vulnerable. My husband had no idea what was going on because he was in the waiting area.
One of the other things they don't tell you is how flipping cold it is in there. You wouldn't think there would be that much difference from the waiting room to the exam area, but I felt like they were trying to freeze me out.
If you have an awesome nurse as I did, they will offer you a warm blanket. I wouldn't categorize it as a blanket, but more like the fabric they use to swaddle newborns. They have this microwave like heater they put these blankets in. Similarly, like wrapping yourself up in a blanket when it first comes out of the dryer. It's still warm and snuggly.
My favorite part of the experience is when the nurse comes in and tries to find a vein. They inject you with a dye so when you go into your scans your insides will light up if there is cancer present. Yes, all of these things are going on at once before you actually get your scans done.
It's finally time. The nurse brings you into a room with a smaller room with computer monitors and the technologist.
I kick of my sandals which and sit down on the side of the "bed." A long, plastic, padded, cold surface.
"Lay your head right here. This will only take approximately 20 minutes," she said. "We will tell you how much time has passed and how much time you have left."
A tear started to fall down my cheek. I wasn't exactly sure why because I didn't feel scared. What do I have to be scard of? I have professionals looking after me. After all, I'm only entrusting my body to these people. They are there to do a job, that's it.
The table began to move forward and so it began.
A godly like voice came out of nowhere, "Breathe in, hold it," the voice said. "Breathe out."
I wish i would have had music or something to focus on, but all I could focus on were the noises coming from this machine.
After about ten minutes of this, I paniced. I started to feel very anxious and just wanted to get out of there.
"We're half-way done," they said.
That wasn't good enough for me.
The thing is, if they pull you out early, they have to start completely over. You have to remain completely still, or they won't get what they need from you.
At one point, I pushed my panic button. The tech came out. They tried to calm me down and provided some air. I just felt so trapped in this machine. The cool oxygen helped and I managed to finish the scan.
Fortunately, two of the scans were done almost simotaniously. I was greatful for that. I don't think I could have taken anymore that day, but I knew I still had to do the MRI and the bone scan.
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