Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2023-07-25 12:04 am
azurelunatic) wrote2023-07-25 12:04 am
Entry tags:
Scanned, again
Got my PET scan today. Expecting results in the next 1-2 weeks, probably.
Scan itself went fine: fasted, the nice tech took my blood, shooed Belovedest out of the room before I got nuclearated, got me some nice rads & sugar water via IV, took my music request, left me to let it settle in, and finally conveyed me to the scanner room. Since I took a detour through the bathroom first, I walked in to "Radioactive", Imagine Dragons. The other tech was listening with growing glee. "Was that on purpose? It would be SO FUNNY if that was on purpose." Yes, yes it was. The streaming service algorithm moved on, and my tech double-checked that I was okay with that. Perhaps he didn't see a link between Imagine Dragons and Lorde, but some accident of time and space set them together on that decade-old radio station that I listened to while driving between home, Virtual Hammer, and back again. And then again on this proprietary mix that we all merely rent.
We got there early to apply for financial aid. I had a mostly filled in sheet with some questions about some parts, and a letter of explanation about my general status. The person there and I vibed immediately, and I told her which field was unfillable in PDF. That took much shorter than I'd thought it might. She allowed as how some of the parts of the form were more important than others under certain circumstances.
We'd also left early to try and return the cat carrier (alas, the place was closed) and return the nasty mangled water bottle I'd been shipped by some whim of the semi-automatic system. Some person had looked at a water bottle that no longer could hold the stated amount of liquid as it was shrunk just exactly like a shrinky-dink, and no longer would accept the lid due to being bent out of shape, and had marked it OK to resell. Either that, or the heat conditions in there are about dishwasher level and shaped.
My tech took some instant heat packs and applied them to various parts of my extremities to see which were best for putting a line in. He examined both elbows first, looked at the bruises on the backs of my hands, and eventually decided to try a place that would have been under my watch band if I wore my watch on the right hand, on the back of my wrist between the lines you'd draw down from my thumb and index finger. He basically felt the vein by magic; I didn't even know that I had a good one right there.
The nuclear medication itself was stored in a handy little rolling cart. I made a note of the name on the cheerful orange stripe and looked up specs based on the name and catalog images that matched the general vibe. "It's basically a tiny vial, a battery, and a BUNCH of lead," my tech had said. Indeed, the specs listed both tungsten and lead as shielding components. (Medrad Intego PET Infusion System.) I noted that the pump on the thing ran much faster than the pump on the plasma systems I remembered from ... approximately 20 years ago. (Oh my.) It had a similar friendly-like-an-IBM-compatible computer putty-white plastic over metal vibe to the brachytherapy machine that I'd met in 2016. I recalled the casual way the physicist who'd given F and me the site tour leaned against the brachytherapy machine while talking about it, with its radioactive iridium source tucked snugly into a device not unlike a tungsten pressure cooker pot. Just another medical device. I'd be back to normal in about 20 hours.
While I sat in the little imaging prep room, briefly more radioactive than a banana, Belovedest pursued the paperwork that I will need to turn in at my nearest Motor Vehicle Department to certify that my hip is hella fucked up, y0. Also tracked down the materials for the take-home urine test. Having taken one before, I requested two collection jugs, but neglected to specify the top hat. I'll have to figure out the optimal time for dropoff, and then work backwards from that.
The medical recliner in the imaging room had a heat function and a massage function.
In the scanner room, I noted with approval that this machine had all of its "HEY THESE ARE FUCKING LASERS, DON'T STARE" labels. *grim look at The Other Place* My friendly tech helped me get settled, and added that while I could breathe normally, I would need to remain absolutely still otherwise. The pillowcase trick for my arms Did Not Work, given my tits. They broke out the big velcro wrap. My tech used some of the self-cling wrap to put my feet together. It was surprisingly comfortable, as far as any immobilizing position can be comfortable to someone with the ADHD. There was a trees-and-sky image on the big room light, and a semi-abstract drawing inside the scanner tunnel. I spotted a seal balancing a ball, a swan, a teapot, and some butterflies.
The scan came out clearly, no need to re-do any parts of it because I'd remained sufficiently still throughout.
After the scan was over, my tech remembered that this room had an assistive device for getting people off the table. "So this is going to be partly you and partly me," he said, walking over what looked like a small pull-up bar dangling from the ceiling, moving smoothly in two dimensions on tracks. I grasped the bar, and before he could do anything else I was sitting up. "Or... all you!" he said, and brought me my glasses. I got my feet under me, popped back into the chair, and we grabbed my phone, watch, and water bottle before he wheeled me out to the snacks zone.
Belovedest and I were both ravenous by the time I got out. We detoured for burgers as soon as traffic let up enough to let us get back onto surface streets.
alexseanchai helped me find my pill boxes after I got home.
Scan itself went fine: fasted, the nice tech took my blood, shooed Belovedest out of the room before I got nuclearated, got me some nice rads & sugar water via IV, took my music request, left me to let it settle in, and finally conveyed me to the scanner room. Since I took a detour through the bathroom first, I walked in to "Radioactive", Imagine Dragons. The other tech was listening with growing glee. "Was that on purpose? It would be SO FUNNY if that was on purpose." Yes, yes it was. The streaming service algorithm moved on, and my tech double-checked that I was okay with that. Perhaps he didn't see a link between Imagine Dragons and Lorde, but some accident of time and space set them together on that decade-old radio station that I listened to while driving between home, Virtual Hammer, and back again. And then again on this proprietary mix that we all merely rent.
We got there early to apply for financial aid. I had a mostly filled in sheet with some questions about some parts, and a letter of explanation about my general status. The person there and I vibed immediately, and I told her which field was unfillable in PDF. That took much shorter than I'd thought it might. She allowed as how some of the parts of the form were more important than others under certain circumstances.
We'd also left early to try and return the cat carrier (alas, the place was closed) and return the nasty mangled water bottle I'd been shipped by some whim of the semi-automatic system. Some person had looked at a water bottle that no longer could hold the stated amount of liquid as it was shrunk just exactly like a shrinky-dink, and no longer would accept the lid due to being bent out of shape, and had marked it OK to resell. Either that, or the heat conditions in there are about dishwasher level and shaped.
My tech took some instant heat packs and applied them to various parts of my extremities to see which were best for putting a line in. He examined both elbows first, looked at the bruises on the backs of my hands, and eventually decided to try a place that would have been under my watch band if I wore my watch on the right hand, on the back of my wrist between the lines you'd draw down from my thumb and index finger. He basically felt the vein by magic; I didn't even know that I had a good one right there.
The nuclear medication itself was stored in a handy little rolling cart. I made a note of the name on the cheerful orange stripe and looked up specs based on the name and catalog images that matched the general vibe. "It's basically a tiny vial, a battery, and a BUNCH of lead," my tech had said. Indeed, the specs listed both tungsten and lead as shielding components. (Medrad Intego PET Infusion System.) I noted that the pump on the thing ran much faster than the pump on the plasma systems I remembered from ... approximately 20 years ago. (Oh my.) It had a similar friendly-like-an-IBM-compatible computer putty-white plastic over metal vibe to the brachytherapy machine that I'd met in 2016. I recalled the casual way the physicist who'd given F and me the site tour leaned against the brachytherapy machine while talking about it, with its radioactive iridium source tucked snugly into a device not unlike a tungsten pressure cooker pot. Just another medical device. I'd be back to normal in about 20 hours.
While I sat in the little imaging prep room, briefly more radioactive than a banana, Belovedest pursued the paperwork that I will need to turn in at my nearest Motor Vehicle Department to certify that my hip is hella fucked up, y0. Also tracked down the materials for the take-home urine test. Having taken one before, I requested two collection jugs, but neglected to specify the top hat. I'll have to figure out the optimal time for dropoff, and then work backwards from that.
The medical recliner in the imaging room had a heat function and a massage function.
In the scanner room, I noted with approval that this machine had all of its "HEY THESE ARE FUCKING LASERS, DON'T STARE" labels. *grim look at The Other Place* My friendly tech helped me get settled, and added that while I could breathe normally, I would need to remain absolutely still otherwise. The pillowcase trick for my arms Did Not Work, given my tits. They broke out the big velcro wrap. My tech used some of the self-cling wrap to put my feet together. It was surprisingly comfortable, as far as any immobilizing position can be comfortable to someone with the ADHD. There was a trees-and-sky image on the big room light, and a semi-abstract drawing inside the scanner tunnel. I spotted a seal balancing a ball, a swan, a teapot, and some butterflies.
The scan came out clearly, no need to re-do any parts of it because I'd remained sufficiently still throughout.
After the scan was over, my tech remembered that this room had an assistive device for getting people off the table. "So this is going to be partly you and partly me," he said, walking over what looked like a small pull-up bar dangling from the ceiling, moving smoothly in two dimensions on tracks. I grasped the bar, and before he could do anything else I was sitting up. "Or... all you!" he said, and brought me my glasses. I got my feet under me, popped back into the chair, and we grabbed my phone, watch, and water bottle before he wheeled me out to the snacks zone.
Belovedest and I were both ravenous by the time I got out. We detoured for burgers as soon as traffic let up enough to let us get back onto surface streets.
alexseanchai helped me find my pill boxes after I got home.
no subject
no subject
AMAZING.
Medrad Intego PET Infusion System
Oh, I see what you mean. A very good aesthetic.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
The results are (so far) not telling us anything that we didn't already know about, and I hope that's accurate.
My toot:
Tonight:
Me: I am looking for my red and orange pill strips. The orange one most urgently.
Me: uh
why yes
thank you
A: dare I ask why they were in the sink?
Me: Because I had loaded them into the bowl to take out of the bedroom
then forgot entirely that they were in there
then sailed out the door in blissful supposition that I had everything I needed with me.