PET Scan 7-1-2010

PET Scan 7-1-2010

This is a boring post but I want to document the procedure for y'all.

The diet for the PET scan was basically no carbs and no sugar for two days. The day before the scan I could drink black coffee or diet pop.

The day of the scan, nothing to drink but water and no food at all for 6 hours prior to the scan. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I am generally on a low carb diet ALL THE TIME. So you'd think this would not be hard for me.

I did fine except... I freaked myself out about not eating for 6 hours prior and so I ATE LIKE A PIG right up to the deadline. I was eating cheese and lots of summer sausage and drinking tons of water (I never drink water). About 2 hours after I stopped eating, I started getting a terrible headache. Not sure if that was because I didn't get any caffeine all day, or fallout from getting no carbs for 2 days. Then I started feeling like I might just swing by the Barf-O-Rama. I kept walking around outside, hoping that the fresh air would either cure me or at least expedite reverse peristalsis. No, and no.

So finally, I left work early and drove to the parking lot at the clinic. I called Julie and told her I planned on napping in my truck to see if I felt better after a little shut eye. (HEY! I'm over 50, I can take a nap, OK?) She agreed to call me 10 minutes before the appt. All I could think of was that if I got sick and couldn't get this done that day, I would have to go through the entire miserable experience AGAIN.

So, I actually did doze for a little bit. When I woke up I felt better.

Notes to myself for next time: Don't freak out and eat like a pig just before the deadline. See if you can schedule the FIRST APPT in the morning, because while you're sleeping you don't care that you're not eating. And from the time you wake up you'll probably only have an hour and a half to two hours to wait instead of 6 hours. But the most important thing: COWBOY UP, YOU BIG SISSY!

July 1st, 2010 The PET scan is not owned by the clinic. It visits the facility on certain days. It is actually housed in a converted semi-trailer which they plop down in the clinic parking lot.

First thing they did was take me in the room with the scanner and take a recent medical history. Then they told me that all the suffering I had just done diet-wise would allow them to get good pictures.

As best I recall, it was explained like this: Due to my recent carb deprivation, my body needed energy NOW. They would inject glucose (with a small amount of radioactive material) into my system. The normal cells would rapidly consume the glucose and then go "quiet". Then they would have me urinate in about 20 minutes to get rid of the excess glucose. What would show up on the scan would be cancer cells that were STILL consuming the (radioactive) glucose they required for their willy-nilly cell division antics.

They told me that they would want me to be still so that I didn't exercise muscles and thus make them grab more glucose and hold on to it longer. This would include my jaw muscles, so they asked me not to talk for 20 minutes (insert whatever joke here you'd like).

Then they took me back to the other end of their location and put me in a comfy recliner, where I was told, basically, to sit down and shut up. In a nice way, of course.

The tech inserted a port in a vein in my left arm with a butterfly needle. He then arranged himself behind a contraption that looked like it belonged in a '50s sci-fi movie. It was a large steel enclosure with an army gray hammer-tone finish. It had a viewing area with what appeared to be leaded glass, about 3" thick. Looking through the glass, he removed a steel cylinder from a vault. It appeared that he measured out a prescribed dosage into a stainless steel injection syringe, to which he attached a plastic tube. He replaced the original cylinder in the vault.

He then connected the prepared syringe to the port in my arm and 'shot me up'. I noticed he wore a film badge, to monitor his exposure to radiation.

As I sat in the chair, I read the notices on the walls. FOR RADIATION EMERGENCIES, CALL such and such, etc. I make myself a mental note - tonight after I go #1 in the toilet I'll flip off the light switch and see there's enough green light in the room to read a book. If there is, I'm calling everyone to come have a look.

Because, when will I ever get to see that again, honestly?

After waiting 20 minutes, they took me inside the clinic to empty my bladder. When they brought me back out, I shared the ride on the little elevator device with a fellow cancer patient who evidently was having his progress assessed: he was completely bald. "That's me in a short while" I said to myself. Cross "Head and Shoulders" off the grocery list. Not like that would be a big deal to a horseshoe-bald dude like me.

Then it was on to the actual scan.

They told me the scan would go from just below the top of my skull to about mid calf. They had me take my shirt off, put on a gown and drop trou to my ankles so that my zipper and button wouldn't show up on the scan. I laid down on the 'sled' for lack of a better word, which slides into and out of the scan 'donut'. The donut itself was maybe 3 feet or so deep. My head went in a v-shaped pillow so that it would remain stationary. They fastened a Velcro papoose-type device around my chest and arms, but not too tightly. My arms were at my sides. The tech asked me if I was claustrophobic and I told him that I was, but just a little bit. Looking at the tube I didn't think I'd have a problem.

The tech told me he'd start me out with my head in the tube and that every 3 minutes the sled would slide my head a little farther OUT OF THE TUBE so that the worst would be over with first. Then he went back to the controls and started the scan. The sled rocketed my head all the way THROUGH the tube and stopped about mid calf... (wait a minute!). A couple minutes later, the tech came in and told me he'd hit the wrong button. I'd finish with my head IN, instead of with my head OUT. Evidently once you start the program you can't stop it. He apologized, but I really didn't care. I just wanted to be done with it.

I must say, the techs were the nicest dudes. They had their routine down pat, and everything went off like clockwork. A very professional operation. All along the way they were very friendly and helpful, right down to apologizing for the needle stick.

A few minutes in, one tech asked what radio station I'd like to listen to. He piped in 670 the Score and I listened to the hosts debate whether or not the Bulls would win the LeBron James derby. That helped the time go by more quickly.

I must have been in the tube for about 45 minutes to an hour. About 3/4 of the way through I started to get sick to my stomach again. I just told myself that after getting this far, I was not going to ruin it by becoming ill. And I alternated between eyes open and shut. He told me it didn't make any difference. A couple times I opened my eyes and my head was in the tube. It was a little unnerving but I just closed my eyes and distracted myself with happy thoughts. And soon it was over.

I thanked them for taking such good care of me. And then I bolted.

I made a beeline for Panera where I inhaled a whole grain bagel followed by a chocolate chip bagel.

I'm sure they were delicious but I ate them so fast I couldn't say for sure.