Waiting ... and Drinking

I tried to post these photos yesterday morning, but I was reprimanded by the nurse. The PET/CT is such a sensitive test, that playing on my phone 45 minutes beforehand would mess up the results.

WHAT? SERIOUSLY?

Yeah, that's what I said, too. Apparently, yes. She told me that not only would my neck muscles be contracting and show up on the scans, but my brain would get too much activity and flare up on the images, too. So, no blogging. No phone. No solitaire. No music. I didn't tell her that my superior neuron-firing skills were likely to throw off the image, anyway, even in the absence of any external stimuli.

I guess the joke will be on them, when the results come back ... except that I took an Ativan in preparation for the claustrophobia. So, maybe my head will look like a giant empty space, instead. Oh, dear. This could be embarrassing.

So, the day goes like this:

• Go in and get a blood sugar test. If the result isn't low enough, you have to go home and try again another day. So, that's why the no breath mints and no ... anything delicious ... for 24 hours prior.
• If you pass, then you are invited to break your fast with half of this yummy bottle of barium sulfate suspension. It's scrumptious. Not really. It's kind of gross. But, they did give me the luscious pina colada flavor. It was palatable, but I'd rather just have the real thing.
• Five minutes later, the I.V. with radioactive chemical goes in. The medication is housed in a separate room and is delivered in a tungsten pipe, so as to protect everyone from the substance that I freely accepted into my veins. Does this seem wrong to anyone else?
• Then comes the fun. Not only does the Ativan begin to kick in, but the chair in the room is a recliner and they wrap you in warm blankets and turn off the light.
• For fifteen minutes, you wait and try not to think. For some unknown reason, I got a totally annoying song stuck in my head. I can't remember it now, but I think it was something not awesome like "I'm Walking on Sunshine."
• Once you finally relax, the timer goes off, which is your cue to drink the rest of the pina colada liquid chalk.
• Then, you wait for another thirty minutes.
• Finally, you go in and are greeted by this:

I am glad that I was sedated ... or anti-anxietied. I do not like small, enclosed spaces. I have an irrational fear of tunnels and crowded elevators and DEFINITELY tube cameras like this or an MRI scanner. Ick.

As it was, though, the entire experience was kind of pleasant. I remember resting on the table and being vaguely aware of time passing quite slowly, but I didn't really mind. Plus, when it was all over, I came home and slept for four hours.

I understand that, as Wikipedia tells me, Ativan "is a high potency benzodiazepine drug which has all five intrinsic benzodiazepine effects: anxiolytic, amnesic, sedative/hypnotic, anticonvulsant and muscle relaxant" and that there are a whole slew of side effects, "including anxiety, insomnia, seizures, psychosis, anterograde amnesia and depression." (Okay, I don't really understand all of that, but I can make out most of it.) However, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm going to start requesting it before all of my medical procedures.

"What? You're going to have to check my white count? Okay, but I'm probably going to need an Ativan. I'm pretty terrified of needles."

"OMG! You want to do a throat culture? I hate those horrid stick-swabs. I won't do it ... unless you have an Ativan."

"Okay, fine. You may brush my teeth. But that pick of yours makes me think of I Know What You Did Last Summer. It looks like a miniature ice-pick or a scaled down version of Captain Hook's right hand. I'm paralyzed with fear. Do you have anything for that?