Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2024-06-20 11:10 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2024-06-20 11:10 pm
Entry tags:
Testing, 2 4 6 8
Today was my next scheduled test, another PET CT scan to keep tabs on how the cancer is doing in its turn-tail-and-run situation. Originally Belovedest had requested today off in order to drive me, on account of the tube is a very small space and I do not like those, no, not at all.
Their work-from-home day is Tuesday.
Wednesday was Juneteenth, which Washington State recognizes as a holiday now.
Today was my scan, for which I need to not exercise for the preceding 24 hours and fast for the last 6 of those (for optimal radioactive glucose uptake).
I woke up to Roomba-pet chewing on the speaker wires in the bedroom. I marched out to grumble at Belovedest over the unclosed door, but poked my head in the living room and did not see the expected Lorge Draggon lounging in the middle of the floor. Instead they were bundled up on the couch, and there were two lines on the test stick. Motherfucking god damn.
Belovedest tried to say something Brave about claustrophobia, and meds related thereto, and not feeling All that bad.
"I am not," I said, "bringing a Covid patient in to the cancer center." And that was that.
Consequently, after I got two one-line tests and felt no new symptoms, I called in to inquire about their preference on the matter, before I laid back down and tried to nap. They were all right with me coming in under the circumstances. I did lie down quietly for a little while, before getting back up at my alarm and helping settle Belovedest into bed with beverages and snacks and various medications. The conclusion: Alex would do what they could to clear the heavy objects off the media room bed, and after I'd gone and done my test I'd do whatever else I needed to.
I drove off at the appointed time and due to my diligence in leaving early, I was almost not late after three distinct traffic slowdowns. I had a magnificently fun time getting ready with my tech. I got my port accessed and flushed, blood drawn and glucose tested (we both guessed and while they were technically closer, it was a spread of 12 points and they were 4 under while I was 8 over) and radioactive glucose hooked up and infused. A quick infusion, just 2 minutes. Then I got to sit and wait while my body absorbed it.
I'd dressed for the occasion. My dress had no metal bits. I wore one of the tied shirts instead of a real bra. My necklace and metal safety bracelet were at home. My glasses went into the little lockbox on the wall, and my mask didn't have enough metal to cause any weirdness on the scan. This time instead of two awkwardly interleaved blankets, my tech wrapped one around my knees and then draped another over me. I felt secure there. My arms got the pillowcase again, over my head (far enough up that my watch might have been able to stay on, but I think I took it off). I amused myself by planning out what I would have to do in order to get myself free if there was some emergency, and then by taking mental notes on how I would represent the inside of this tube if I were to paint it. Thus, the little apertures for the lasers. Thus, the metal band. Thus, the shiny white portion, and the duller section of glue over the seam where the parts met. And then my favorite part of the inside of the tube, the dull cream-colored portion at the heart of the tube with the art on the top. Like paisley, but with more boxy, cellular shapes joined together, and little unexpected images between sections. A swan. Butterflies. A teapot. That part would be the most fun to re-invent if I painted it; instead of trying to remember what was actually there, I'd try to capture the general vibe but invent my own images. A radiation trefoil, perhaps? A chemo port? A classic yew branch and berries, with a bow and arrow, the images that I keep coming back to over and over throughout this.
I'd seeded the playlist with "Shiny Happy People", and this time it went off to Van Morrison: "Brown Eyed Girl". It never did come back to R.E.M., but that was all right. My fingers twitched but I refrained from dancing.
I got ginger ale on my way out, and then hot chocolate from the cafeteria while waiting for the next appointment. They were counting out the tip jar as I checked out. "Do you have change for a $2?" I asked, and one of the baristas pounced on it. The other one had claimed the $20 with the glitter on it a few moments before.
I've got a new physical therapy assignment from the chemo gynecologist, ideally in a setting where there's no likelihood of "side-key pushing" (a family term for interference from observers, dated to when Dad brought home a computer and my sister and I wanted to "help" when the other had a turn at the machine). Also I get to have semi-annual pelvic exams for the next little while, joy. It's looking quite all right aside from some (expected) pallor.
I got to chat withnorabombay on the trip home, and then made a last-minute Costco run so there will be enough jars of nut butter so if Covid knocks over the entire upstairs, we can each have our own jar of nut butter and spoon. -_-
My plan from the last time Ev stayed overnight, of covering the bed with one of the little-used flat sheets to ward off feline interference, was a good idea, but Yellface managed to nest herself under the sheet and got fuzz all over everything anyway. Well done, baby. *sigh* So I did my best to put sheets on the bed in the stifling heat. I thought I was malfunctioning somehow, but no, it turns out the climate control was entirely off in there and it was a scorcher today. After I got the thing turned on and the window open and the window fan on (to set up a negative pressure space in the sick-room) I started to feel better, and we got Belovedest and their gear swapped over into there so they'll be able to sleep in a bed and I'll be able to sleep in a bed and we won't be breathing on each other.
I will probably get the results of the test early next week. Since today's adventures accessed my port, I will be less worried about rescheduling my infusion if I get sick. I feel sanguine about driving myself if I'm generally Okay next week, under the circumstances, and I certainly hope I can remain so.
Their work-from-home day is Tuesday.
Wednesday was Juneteenth, which Washington State recognizes as a holiday now.
Today was my scan, for which I need to not exercise for the preceding 24 hours and fast for the last 6 of those (for optimal radioactive glucose uptake).
I woke up to Roomba-pet chewing on the speaker wires in the bedroom. I marched out to grumble at Belovedest over the unclosed door, but poked my head in the living room and did not see the expected Lorge Draggon lounging in the middle of the floor. Instead they were bundled up on the couch, and there were two lines on the test stick. Motherfucking god damn.
Belovedest tried to say something Brave about claustrophobia, and meds related thereto, and not feeling All that bad.
"I am not," I said, "bringing a Covid patient in to the cancer center." And that was that.
Consequently, after I got two one-line tests and felt no new symptoms, I called in to inquire about their preference on the matter, before I laid back down and tried to nap. They were all right with me coming in under the circumstances. I did lie down quietly for a little while, before getting back up at my alarm and helping settle Belovedest into bed with beverages and snacks and various medications. The conclusion: Alex would do what they could to clear the heavy objects off the media room bed, and after I'd gone and done my test I'd do whatever else I needed to.
I drove off at the appointed time and due to my diligence in leaving early, I was almost not late after three distinct traffic slowdowns. I had a magnificently fun time getting ready with my tech. I got my port accessed and flushed, blood drawn and glucose tested (we both guessed and while they were technically closer, it was a spread of 12 points and they were 4 under while I was 8 over) and radioactive glucose hooked up and infused. A quick infusion, just 2 minutes. Then I got to sit and wait while my body absorbed it.
I'd dressed for the occasion. My dress had no metal bits. I wore one of the tied shirts instead of a real bra. My necklace and metal safety bracelet were at home. My glasses went into the little lockbox on the wall, and my mask didn't have enough metal to cause any weirdness on the scan. This time instead of two awkwardly interleaved blankets, my tech wrapped one around my knees and then draped another over me. I felt secure there. My arms got the pillowcase again, over my head (far enough up that my watch might have been able to stay on, but I think I took it off). I amused myself by planning out what I would have to do in order to get myself free if there was some emergency, and then by taking mental notes on how I would represent the inside of this tube if I were to paint it. Thus, the little apertures for the lasers. Thus, the metal band. Thus, the shiny white portion, and the duller section of glue over the seam where the parts met. And then my favorite part of the inside of the tube, the dull cream-colored portion at the heart of the tube with the art on the top. Like paisley, but with more boxy, cellular shapes joined together, and little unexpected images between sections. A swan. Butterflies. A teapot. That part would be the most fun to re-invent if I painted it; instead of trying to remember what was actually there, I'd try to capture the general vibe but invent my own images. A radiation trefoil, perhaps? A chemo port? A classic yew branch and berries, with a bow and arrow, the images that I keep coming back to over and over throughout this.
I'd seeded the playlist with "Shiny Happy People", and this time it went off to Van Morrison: "Brown Eyed Girl". It never did come back to R.E.M., but that was all right. My fingers twitched but I refrained from dancing.
I got ginger ale on my way out, and then hot chocolate from the cafeteria while waiting for the next appointment. They were counting out the tip jar as I checked out. "Do you have change for a $2?" I asked, and one of the baristas pounced on it. The other one had claimed the $20 with the glitter on it a few moments before.
I've got a new physical therapy assignment from the chemo gynecologist, ideally in a setting where there's no likelihood of "side-key pushing" (a family term for interference from observers, dated to when Dad brought home a computer and my sister and I wanted to "help" when the other had a turn at the machine). Also I get to have semi-annual pelvic exams for the next little while, joy. It's looking quite all right aside from some (expected) pallor.
I got to chat with
norabombay on the trip home, and then made a last-minute Costco run so there will be enough jars of nut butter so if Covid knocks over the entire upstairs, we can each have our own jar of nut butter and spoon. -_- My plan from the last time Ev stayed overnight, of covering the bed with one of the little-used flat sheets to ward off feline interference, was a good idea, but Yellface managed to nest herself under the sheet and got fuzz all over everything anyway. Well done, baby. *sigh* So I did my best to put sheets on the bed in the stifling heat. I thought I was malfunctioning somehow, but no, it turns out the climate control was entirely off in there and it was a scorcher today. After I got the thing turned on and the window open and the window fan on (to set up a negative pressure space in the sick-room) I started to feel better, and we got Belovedest and their gear swapped over into there so they'll be able to sleep in a bed and I'll be able to sleep in a bed and we won't be breathing on each other.
I will probably get the results of the test early next week. Since today's adventures accessed my port, I will be less worried about rescheduling my infusion if I get sick. I feel sanguine about driving myself if I'm generally Okay next week, under the circumstances, and I certainly hope I can remain so.