As mentioned in an earlier post, Thursday was Scan Day here at Cancer Girl HQ.
I'm pleased to report that I did not have to do MRI's this time. (Read: I didn't have to spend an hour of my life in the chanting and vibrating tube of death.) Instead, I got to do a triple CT, complete with barium sulfate and intravenous iodine.
Don't be jealous.
All this really means is that I got to drink a good half gallon (that may be a slight exaggeration, but it really is only a slight exaggeration) of thick goo over the course of an hour while they IV'd me so they could push the contrast through during my abdominal and pelvic CT's. There were several delightful "flavors" of barium from which to choose. I went with mocha. Why? Because I had it on good authority that the apple is about 17 different shades of nasty, and I was afraid that the berry flavor might ruin berry shakes and smoothies for me forever. ... And also because I thought that drinking the mocha would give the rebellious side of me a little more purpose in getting it down. (Turns out I was right, in case you were wondering.) I giggled more than once at my "medicinal" coffee. Sometimes being a practicing, yet very snarky, Mormon has its upsides. (Whatever it takes to get through the barium, I tell you. Whatever it takes. ... And if any of you Super Mormons out there are getting all Judge Judy over my mocha barium, I have nine words for you: "Don't judge me because I sin differently than you." - Just cracked myself up. Hardcore.)
I'm not exactly sure why they good doctor ordered this specific kind of CT. I've always had the iodine contrast, but I've never had to drink the barium stuff before. When they were setting me up for the CT, I asked the tech running the machine what all the goop was for (do you love how technical I am?) and she explained that it gives a different kind of picture than an MRI does, more of a 3-D shot, if you will. She explained that this would help them see not only my tumor, but also what's going on in my surrounding organs and even with my hernia. This is intriguing to me. I still don't understand how it works, but it's fascinating to me that I can drink something that makes my guts light up so the doctors can see what's going on in there.
The scan itself didn't take long 20, maybe 30 minutes. Jo was kind enough to drive me (so I could take a double dose of Ativan and not have a freakout on the medical personnel at the cancer center). After the tests, we hit McDonald's (totally our breakfast of choice) and then she took me to work.
It's been a long day. ... Mostly because I have been alll kinds of sick to my stomach from the medicine that turned my guts into a Christmas tree.
But Scan Day is over. ... Now I just have to get through Results Day. I'm curious to see what the results are, because there's something going on here. My pants don't fit. My stomach is more pokey-outey than it was two weeks ago. And I ate the last Nothing Bundlette that was in my freezer some time ago, so I'm pretty sure it's not the cake that's making this happen. Tomorrow, I will be smarter. (Or, at the very least, get the results from today's blood work and CT's.)