Today was PET scan day. No big news. I got up at 6:30am to fix and consume a veggie omelet before my 6 hour fast. My stomach was growling by the time I left the house with John at 11:40. So, I wasn’t even going to type today, because I thought there’d be no news at all. I was taken back exactly at 1pm as scheduled. Die was slowly oozed into my blood. Darn it, I didn’t glow in the dark! I waited an hour. Then, I lay still on a table for 20 minutes while the PET scanned me. Fini! But, there is something to report…
Ya know how everyday you have this feeling like “ah, that’s why I’m here right now…at this exact place, at this exact time…” If you don’t have this feeling often, I personally think you are ignoring something. I’m talking little things, though, not necessarily revelations. You took 15 minutes too long in the library and when you finally leave, the car next to you in the parking lot needs a jump. A short, elderly lady can’t reach her Fiber One while you are staring blankly at the multitude of cereal choices. That everyday sort of stuff….
Today, I had my scan. But, originally it was scheduled for Friday. I couldn’t go Friday because Maria desperately needed to go to the eye doc. She had a Friday appt. So, my scan was scooted over to today. Today, a fine middle aged woman was also getting a PET scan. Her scan was running late…they actually forgot to call her back. She hadn’t eaten since 8pm Sunday night, and she felt irritable. We chatted a minute. I asked if they were looking for tumors on her scan. Oh, she said, we KNOW there’s tumors. She needed a baseline, though, before starting chemo. Again. She was diagnosed with metastatic triple-negative breast cancer in 1984. It flared up again in 1991. And 2007. And now again. In 2007, it had morphed. She is now estrogen positive…with more treatment options than she experienced in the past. Arimidex failed her. Aromasin failed her. Tamoxifen did the trick for a few years. Now, she’ll start chemo again. Did you count yet? Did you? Metastatic diagnosis in 1984. It’s now 2010. Ya baby, that’s TWENTY-SIX YEARS!!! She holds the record for longest survivor either for her doc or in all the UH patients, I’m not sure which. She had attitude. She only surrounds herself with positive people. And, like so many other women I’ve met, she noted that she does NOT have a visible expiration date. Her babies are now 25 and 31. She lost her husband to malignant melanoma last year. It’s harder, so much harder, she said…without him. But, there are other people to love, too. This woman rocked. She is a rock. After her scan, she came over and hugged me. “Piece of cake, honey. Piece of cake. We’re not going down”.