A few more tests and then….

It’s been a while since my last posting. I’ve been busy. Oh, you don’t believe a patient can be busy? Well, there are these tests that the medical types foist upon us patients and those tests take up a patient’s time. I am still doing a bit of work from home and let me say that tires me out too. Those afternoon naps are a precious piece of time!

I returned to the Medical Center last week for “re-staging.” I was revisiting the same tests that initially determined that my lymphoma was an aggressive cancer – stage 4.  Hopefully, this time the results will show the cancer to be in remission.

Julie and I had a full day at the Medical Center starting at 7:00 a.m. and finishing up at 4:45 p.m. The tests included some of my favorite and some of the least desired diagnostics. I started with the ever popular PET scan. I was back in the room with the lead door. The technician brought in a lead box containing a syringe encapsulated in a lead casing. The syringe was filled with radioactive isotopes. When everyone else is wearing a lead apron and running from the room, maybe it’s time to ask, “What am I doing here laying on this cold metal surface?” “Courage patient, courage.”

From nuclear medicine it was on to radiology for a CT scan. There I was given two 12 ounce cups of bitter sweet Hawaiian Punch Cool-Aid. My drink was obviously, laced with something that only the powerful sweetness of Hawaiian Punch Cool-Aid could attempt to hide. If that drink wasn’t enough, the nurse shot me with a contrast solution in the middle of the CT scan with the comment, “This should make you feel warm all over. Oh, and it can be harmful to your kidneys so drink a lot of water today.”

Again, laying on a cold hard surface, the “warm all over” suggestion was quite welcome. However, the warning about kidney damage was another reason we patients have to have lots of courage to undergo these tests.

We hopped over to the Storz Pavilion – no they don’t serve Storz beer in this pavilion – for a quick sandwich. Then it was off to the heart clinic for an echocardiogram. It was there that I met the cutest patient of all. Her name was Madeline. She was seven months old and sported a hair style not unlike my own. What an engaging smile! Every waiting room needs a bright eyed infant to bring cheer to the day.

During my heart exam, I was slathered in KY gel with a small handheld device that I swore the technician was trying to embed in my chest wall. Of course, towards the end of the procedure, in comes a nurse with contrast solution and the fabled warning about my kidneys. Oh, gracious, enough already.

Once they got the goop off my torso we trotted off to the Patient Care Center for the awesome bone marrow biopsy. I had a very skilled team of physician assistants, a student PA and a technician from the lab. It was to my advantage to have such a team because one PA bore into my hip bone with a device that I swear was from the Spanish Inquisition while the other rubbed my shoulder and gave me reassurance that even if I whimpered what happened in that room would stay in that room. The student offered words of encouragement and the lab tech chuckled at a few of my lame jokes. They were all quite impressed with the amount of bone extracted from my backside and felt the pathologist would be very pleased. I just whimpered quietly.

With a bandage in place and an ice bag in tow, I staggered to the scheduled chest x-ray. Seriously, do all of these devices have to be so damn cold? I took off my shirt and pressed my bare chest up against the coldest metal box in Omaha. Then I had to turn, raise my arms and press my left side against the damn box again. Please!

I was a bit shell shocked but still standing when the day of tests came to an end. Julie took me to the Upstream Restaurant for some Gouda cheese soup – all was well.

Grace and peace,
Tim.

P.S.  I drank lots of water all through dinner and the next three days.  Is everybody happy now?