... scan this morning. It took, as scheduled, about 2 hours from start to finish. The first thing the tech did was to check my blood sugar (95, fasting) to make sure that the radioactive sugar tracer would get picked up by anything hungry. Second was finding a vein (always a joy), and finally going with one on the back of my hand in which to inject said tracer. The tech brought in a little lead-lined box (looking exactly like a fashionable little clutch, if it weren't for the radiation hazard symbols on it), and took from it a lead-encased hypodermic -- for her protection, not mine, since of course she injected me with the stuff. It was a very small amount of material, but I still had that odd, cold-veined feeling from it.
After that? Resting for an hour to let the tracer work its way through my system, while I worked on a vanilla-flavored barium contrast shake. It's a good thing I was fasting, there is no way I could've drunk that shake if I had had anything in my stomach already. As it was, it wasn't easy drinking the whole thing, even though the texture was much improved since the last time I had to drink something like that.
So, tucked up in a warm blanket, I mostly napped in the recliner for that hour, and then I was brought into the scanner. As usual, it features an incredibly narrow plank which slides in and out of the "doughnut" which is the actual scanner. This is where I screwed up, because I didn't relax my arms enough while the tech was adjusting the velcro straps that are supposed to support them during the scan. I think I just wanted to get it over with, and I wasn't really thinking about whether the straps were supporting my arms or I was.
Holding your arms at your sides for 40 minutes isn't fun, and I ended up with a headache because the cradle for my head, while lined with some type of thick fabric, was still really hard underneath. It doesn't help that I'm in a minor flare and everything hurts now anyway.
I cycled through the stages of "wow, this really hurts, and I really need to move my arms" to "relax, relax, don't screw it up or they'll have to start all over" to "OK, I can do this" at least three times, and had come back around to the "don't screw it up" point again when it was finally over.
The tech says my doctor will have results in 24 hours, 48 at the latest, but my appointment with my endocrinologist is set for March 27 and I don't expect to hear anything before then. (sigh)
I was put off today by a couple of people who know about this situation and just brushed it off as if it were nothing. I don't want to be fussed over, but I would like some acknowledgement that this situation -- waiting for test results, not knowing whether I'm coming or going -- wears on a person. Well, it wears on me.
That wraps up day two of a spring break that is full of appointments and deliveries, and will finish up with a speech and debate tournament. This is the kind of vacation that you need a vacation from.