Scan + Scan

Can I just say how grateful I am for the friends who drive me to Huntsman when I have stuff going on?  I could drive there by myself.  I could sit there by myself, I could even drive myself home again.  It wouldn't be a big deal.  But it's a HUGE deal for me to have the willingness, the love and support from SO MANY PEOPLE!  I occasionally see people sitting in their recliners in the infusion room alone, and I wonder where their people are.  I think I'll make a point of going to talk to those people for a few minutes.  It makes me sad to see them alone.

My friend Bonnie drove me to Huntsman this morning, and stayed with me through my drinking of that disgusting berry smoothie contrast, the injection for the bone scan, and the CT scan.  It takes about three hours for the injection to make it's way into your bones.

We went to the Pointe restaurant after the CT scan because I hadn't eaten anything (except berry smoothie), and I really needed to get food in my belly.  Not too long after that, Sharla came so Bonnie could make it to another commitment.  See what I mean?  Sometimes we tag-team the love.

If there's cancer in the bones, it will light up on the scan.  The scan itself was painless but I definitely felt claustrophobic!  I just had to close my eyes and be patient.  They checked my pelvis, skull, ribs and did a full body scan.  I already have significant bone loss for my age, so it's something to monitor.

The bone scan machine, and a random stranger

If it goes like last time, I'll hear from my nurse tomorrow with the results.  Then I'll get the details when I talk to my oncologist on Friday for our regular 3 week check up.  Of course I'm nervous, but I'm not losing sleep either.  It is what is, and we deal with what is.

People often ask me how my family is.  I'd say that the older three kids tend to mirror whatever I'm feeling.  So, if I'm having a meltdown, they are too.  If I'm calm and optimistic, they are too.  If I'm tired and impatient, they notice.  My littlest seems to accept my hairlessness, and doesn't seem to worry about "cancer", but will meltdown over little things that are totally unrelated.  That's when I know she needs some "Mom" time, and we cuddle on the couch with my fuzzy, soft blankets and talk until she feels better.

Of course I worry about the kids, but I really worry about Mat.  He carries such a heavy burden.  I often ask him how he is doing, he'll sigh and say he's OK.  Tonight he said to ask him on Friday how he's doing.  I love him so much, he's such a good man.  It's hard for me to know he's suffering but carries on anyway.

We were both released from callings when I was diagnosed (he was Ward Mission Leader).  Service is the backbone of the church, and I don't have a problem with it, but it was too much.  Mat would love to be the organist, but for now, he's a husband and a Dad.  I had a brilliant calling offered me today--more on that later!  It will make perfect sense when you know what it is, but it might sound odd coming across the pulpit.  Suspense!


She'll hate me for this, but I have to give a shout out to my oldest friend Diana.  Not oldest in the sense of "old" but in the sense that I've been friends with her longer than anyone else I know!  Our parents were best friends, and we were born 5 days apart.  So I've know her since we were born.  We went to lunch on Monday and had a marvelous time talking for 2 ½ hours.  She's one of the funniest people I know, and I love talking to her.  So glad we could make "lunch" happen!