The Waiting Game...

 

The election?  No.  It's going to be some old white guy.  Lots of puffery, but not much will change.  Supporters will believe things will change.  They won't.  But, it's OK to have hope.

Today's Waiting Game is about getting a bone scan.  "Your appointment is for 9:00 am, be here no later than 8:30."  They don't fool me: we got to the hospital at 8:29.  An hour and 15 minutes later, I got to see someone to get checked in.  "Checked in" means: they already have all your information; they just need to run it by Medicare to make sure they will pay.

That wait done, we were escorted to the Nuclear Medicine wing.  Another check-in, then sit and wait; this one was shorter, only 10 minutes or so.  A big guy (my new best friend, Keith) called my name and took me back to where they give the radioactive injections.  I looked around for a spider to bite me so I could at least come out of this with some super-powers.  Didn't happen.

 

My new friend, Keith, asked, "Is this a new prostate cancer diagnosis?  Don't be concerned about this test - it is pretty much standard procedure with any cancer diagnosis, and very rare that any cancer has spread with your type of cancer."  Nice of him to say.  He also told me I have "good veins"... I bet he says that to all the guys.  He tied off my arm and had me injected right directly.

"We'll have you come back in 3 hours and do the full body scan - that part will take a half hour or so."

Yeah, more waiting.  We had breakfast, then made a couple shopping stops.  Joan had ordered on-line, so it went quick.  While she went into one store, I went to a nearby Freddy's for a small order of cheese curds... yeah, I felt like treating myself.  Then, out to the coach, where we can wait in comfort.

The time passed quickly while in the motorhome; certainly a lot faster than in the hospital waiting area.  Back to the hospital and we went directly to the Nuclear Medicine wing.  Only a 10 minute wait until a young lady took me back to where the scan would be done.  My buddy Keith was waiting for me.  Empty pockets and take off my belt (metal buckle); I didn't have to don one of those stylish gowns with my ass hanging out.

The scan machine looks like a cot on rollers being shoved through a big ring, and a big plate that moves down... first towards your face.  "You are going to stop that thing before it smashes my head, aren't ya, Keith?"

"Yes, sir."  It was close.

They put my arms in a ring of fabric that holds them at your side; laying on my back, head on a pillow, a cushion under my knees.  Not as comfortable as it sounds, especially when they tell you: "Hold still."

Twenty minutes or so in, laying on my back, I could feel the need to clear my throat... "Oh, shit, I am going to choke on my own spit!  Maybe it's someone else's spit?"  Nah, no panic; just funnin' you.  To make sure I would be less comfortable, they had me take my arms out of the sling-thing and cross them over my chest... pretty sure this is how they pose you in a casket.  Another series of the big plate thing going by my head, then on the sides.

"Now, put your arms out over your head."  Pretty sure they're just messing with me, now... "Let's see if we can pose him like 'Walk like an Egyptian'."  More moving plate stuff.

And then, Keith said, "OK, you are done."

I asked, "I don't suppose you are going to tell me anything?"

"No, sir.  We will send these to your doctor - do you have a follow-up appointment?"

"Not until the 24th," I told him.

"Give it a couple days, then call them if you haven't heard from them."

Yeah, more waiting.   On the bright side, I can get rid of the body adornments they gave me this morning...

At home, I turned off the light in the bathroom... no, my pee isn't glowing.  No photo.