Live from the Pet Scan Prep Room

Yes, it's that time again. Holed up in my little cell, I'm awaiting the trip down the hall to the what we in nuclear medicine affectionately call "the tube."

I meant to post last week about the presentation I attended featuring Sidddhartha Mukharjee, the Pulitzer Prize Winning author of The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer. He told some interesting stories about individual patients that helped personalize the story of cancer research over the last 100 years or so.

Look at me, I'm an Author!

In the Q&A portion, the author was asked about Steve Jobs. He said he had on his computer an open letter to Jobs that he had drafted for the NY Times a couple weeks ago when it appeared Jobs' time was short. Basically the idea was that here's this guy who delivered transformational technologies to the world many times over and "we," the medical community had failed to reciprocate in cancer innovation, particularly pancreatic cancer. He feels we're 10 years out from being able to manage or maybe even cure the type of pancreatic caner Jobs had, but that pace could have easily been accelerated.
I sold 2 copies of my book, and gave one to to Mukharjee. He laughed when I said it was the bathroom companion to his Pulitzer Prize winner. Maybe he'll blurb my book, who knows?

But enough about him. Let's get back to me.

I feel a bit like Alice today, because the room I am in is the even-smaller version reserved for when the two other prison cells are in use. My tech Eric says it's the VIP suite. I reminded him that suites usually have running water and are wide enough for a twin bed or two. This one, using the tried and true ceiling tile counting method, is 9 ft by 5 ft. I have shoeboxes bigger than this, but then again I do wear a size 12.5.

Eric has obviously trained with Vince, who you may recall from earlier posts or from my book. He is the second funniest person I've met in the cancer journey, and Eric may be a close third. Vince just popped his head in (because nothing else would fit) and I told him I'd grab a copy of my book for him when I go to leave here in an hour or so.

Today's barium-masking flavor is vanilla. Coming off an 8 hour fast, which is only two days removed from a 25 hour fast, it's quite decent. I can barely taste the goat semen.

I'll have the results from this scan on Friday. I'm confident all is still well. I wish I could convince Marcie to feel the same way, but I think she'll be a wreck until we see Dr. Z. It's in her nature to worry for me. It's in my nature not to worry about anything. Makes us a good pair, don't you think?