SCAN 101

Thanks to a PSA that doubled in a short time recently,  I was sent off to spend the better part of yesterday being scanned.   I remember the first time I was going to be “scanned”.   My fascination with Science Fiction terrified me when thinking about being “scanned”. 

CAT and Bone Scans, those seemingly  “scary scary”, are cake walks.  The worst that happens to you is a “slight poke” as they put the IV in…if you need an IV.

So I thought I’d share yesterday.  Yesterday that was filled with people that helped.  People that cared.  

 

This is where my day started.  My best friend dropped me off.  Having a ride is a great thing.  Especially if your friend or spouse can deliver you.  No reason for them to stay unless you want them too.  Trust me they will be bored as ultimately you will be to.

OK, it’s blurry and scary.  It’s also taken apart for QC.  They knew I was showing up so they wanted to make sure it was running fine for me.  This is the bone scan machine in what they call nuclear medicine.  The big thing at the top.  Well that’s the thing that comes down really close to you, scares the crap out of you because you think it is going to squish you, but ultimately takes pictures of your bones which saves you.

 

Before you have a bone scan they will have to put an isotope in you.  No worries about that you won’t glow.  The isotope, without being technical, helps “develop” the bone scan picture.  Doesn’t even hurt and if you don’t like needles….well they don’t really use needles.  Today’s needles look like a small plastic tube thing and they don’t even hurt.

I had two scans yesterday.  This is the “contrast” they make you drink for the CAT scan.  No biggy, tastes like nothing, but does waste an hour of your life as you sip.  For some reason they won’t let you just guzzle it.  So make sure you bring a book or something to entertain.  Oh and you can't eat four hours before, so make sure you have that late night snack.

And here is the CAT scan machine.  It’s blurry but look to the right of the doughnut.  Your IV will hook to that apparatus for about 30 seconds.  They will “push” some more “contrast” into you.  Here’s the cool thing.  When they do that…you’ll get a weird taste in your mouth and you will feel like you are peeing your pants even though you aren’t.  How many times during all of this do you wish you could pee your pants?

 

OK so it’s posed and my “bone scan” friend took the shot.  I’ve done this five times now.  The first time.  Wow.  I was terrified.  Ask questions if you are worried.  Talk, smile and participate.

Oh…the folks in the room with you.  They are there for you.

Conversation II

…from Conversation I

“Nope”

“There’s hope, promise and chance.  There was a morning somewhere around eighteen years of age or so you recognized all three.  Remember?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean NOPE?”

“I don’t remember that day.”

“I do.”  Wow I guess I need to do a little harvesting of memory and bring in the sheaves.

“Trust me you remember and since you are so insistent I’m going for it.  I’ll explain the inexplicable.”

Another doubtful horse snort. “Doubt it.  Last night you ran off and made Tapioca.”

Damn, there’s no quarter for me. “I’m all in.  Listen for a change.  You never have and I’m guessing you never will.”

Snort.

“Quit snorting and listen.”

“To sound like a stuck record.  At some point in our life there was hope, promise and chance.  Argue if you want but those things were the beginning of what made us. “

 “You asked how I do it.  Fine."

Another horsey snort.

" If I could I’d slap you.  Absolutely true the worst thing that has ever happened to me is have the three things that form a life, promise, chance and hope, jerked out from under my feet.

“That’s exactly what happened…how do you do it ?”

“I DON’T KNOW!  “

"How can you not know?"

“I know that promise is the toughest to have pulled out from underneath your feet.  I’ve spent decades with promise under my feet helping me wake up through thick and thin only to have promise recently pulled out under my feet.  Once promise is gone you don’t ever get that one back.

Chance is chance.  Like a chance of thunder storm.  You hope the storm will show up in the afternoon and you can safely watch the dance of lightening across the sky from your porch.  Just as assuredly the storm of chance could demolish your home, soul, or health.

“Hope.  Well that one is our struggle isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

"What about promise?"

Sigh, “I’m going to bed.”

“Of course you are.  Did we fix ourself?”

“Nope, but we will.”

Conversation I

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”  Pretty sure the question wasn’t aimed at any questionable moral issues I may have had in my past, my reply was still tinged with trepidation.

“Get up every morning.”

With resignation I wince and reply.  “I’m guessing you mean something different than grudgingly opening my eyes, stretching and having to pee just like every other human on this planet?”  

While I didn’t mind these conversations sometimes they were difficult because I just didn’t have the answers that were wanted to be heard.

“Don’t be a smart ass.  You know what I mean.”

Much more earnestly was the follow up.  “Your life has completely been turned upside down yet you get up every morning.  Added to that your days are filled with all sorts of crap a normal day is devoid of.  So?  How do you do it?”

Really not in the mood for this inquisition I went with flippant. “I’m a Nike ad I just do it.”

Judging from the snorting response I immediately discerned I was in for the long haul and flippant was not going to be the detour to the short cut out of this conversation.  Okay, I’d try the daily heard constant cop outs.  “It is what it is.  At the end of the day.  What else am I going to do, stay in bed all day?” 

Judging from the sighs that sounded about as patient as a blustery fall breeze trying to bully clinging leaves into their downward spiral I deduced that this answer also fell short of expectations.

“Okay.  Think about it.  Honestly what are you going to do when everything you’ve hoped, promised yourself and expected of your future come crashing down about your ears.  What can you do?  Nothing, it is what it is.”

Yikes that answer got me a “nasty”, piercing icy wind through the soul “No Quarter” dogs of doom feeling.

“All right. I’ll try.”

The problem is I’ve thought about this for a long time.  Trying to answer the question is like.  Well, like if a thought is a snow flake.  You look up and see a flake drifting down so perfectly defined in its symmetry.  Then it lands on the palm of your hand.  You see it, you almost understand the amazement.  Then as the flake, slowly melts you can’t remember symmetry.  But you remember the amazement.

“Okay.  Try this.  Sometime back when you were just starting out.  Just realizing that there was something more in front of you than Jane Smith and whether she was going to “dump” you tomorrow at Sandy Jone’s birthday party.  There were promises life made, chances life offered and plans.  Do you remember that time?”

“Nope.

“Why am I talking to you then?”

“You have absolutely no choice.  I’m not letting you go until you answer.”

Crap.  I’m dealing with a dumb ass I really am. How do I explain what I don’t know to the clueless?  Perhaps if you can put down the Tapioca I might get through.

“Alright.  There’s hope, promise and chance.  Get it?”

“Nope”

“You have to get it you dumb ass it was your idea.”

“Nope”

“

There’s hope, promise and chance.  There was a morning somewhere around eighteen years of age or so you recognized all three.  Remember?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean NOPE?”

“I don’t remember that day.”

The Train

Since becoming ill the thought that crosses my mind often as I watch the world is how that world just continues to whirl by, doesn't skip a beat, doesn't know I'm ill.  I come into contact with people on a daily basis who, if they are told I'm ill will say "wow you look great."  Is that proof of the old saw "you can't judge a book by its cover?"

Case in point.  I'll admit it.  I am an avid public voyeur, a people watcher.  I'm totally fascinated by watching, wondering and surmising what a particular persons story is.  Recently I've had far more opportunity  to participate in that strange past time that is people watching.

A month or so ago I physically lost my ability to drive.  Boy there's a privilege you shouldn't take for granted, that driving thing.  My ace team of oncologists neurosurgeons and neurologist don't really seem to know why I can't feel various parts of my lower extremities.  Which not only is that loss of feeling disconcerting, but the fact that those folks aren't' sure what's going on makes it that much more disconcerting.  These are some smart people I'm talking about.  Anyway, they think it has something to do with radiation, bone, and the fact I seem to always fall into that 2% rarity percentile.  Be that as it may I'm unable to drive but can still walk.

Not being able to drive very early each morning my wife is kind enough to deliver me to the light rail platform so I can make the commute in to the office.  Some mornings I'm a bit early for my train but too late for the one before.  On one of these mornings not too long ago was the first time I noticed the man.

The man was sitting on one of the transit benches that reality dictates be designed for cold discomfort.  Knees pressed together, back straight he's clutching a bouquet.  On this day the bouquet is roses.  I move on down the platform industriously checking my emails on my "phone that is smarter than me" and he passes from my attention. 

As my train leaves the platform and I peer out the window I see the man, bouquet in hand, walking down the sidewalk.  How odd.  He didn't get on the train at all.

I see the man at the platform a few times after that first odd encounter.  Primly sitting on the autumn cold bench, clutching a bouquet and waiting.  Waiting for what I had assumed was to board the train and each time that assumption vanished as I peered out the window from my passing train and watched the man march purposely down the sidewalk, bouquet in hand.

I don't see the man everyday as I don't arrive at the platform the same time everyday and on other days I don't go to the platform at all.  Today however, the world conspired to deliver this public voyeur more information.

I happened to arrive just as a train pulled in.  The man rose from today's decidedly Autumn cold bench clutching a bouquet of out of season Daffodils.  He timed his rise from the bench perfectly to coincide with the opening of the train doors.  There he stood, waiting, standing, the bouquet now clutched in a hand thrust toward the now open and very empty train doors.

Somehow as I waded through traffic and made my way up onto the platform I lost sight of the man.  As I approached the now unoccupied bench there were Daffodils like a bright yellow splash across the bench.  The man?  No where in sight.

Perhaps at some point today the man will either rudely or accidentally let the store door close in your face.  Perhaps he will accidentally or purposely cut you off on the free way.   The world speeds on and just like the world doesn't know I'm sick we don't know, by looking, what the state of the person next to us is or what they are going through. 

I work real hard now to keep this in mind when someone is rude or cuts in line or any of the myriad of things that used to just piss me off.  Their day or life could be going much much worse than mine.

As for the man on the platform.  Over the last few years I've learned a bit about futility and hope.  My hope is that those Daffodils I saw this early morning splashed across the bench were just accidentally dropped by the man on the platform and he hasn't given up on his hope that will someday step out of those empty train doors.

Randy Smith Memorial

I’m taking a break from my next installment of scaring you guys into prostate checkups because this time last week the most amazing, spiritually, uplifting, humbling thing happened to me. 

I was honored to be invited to the Randy Smith Memorial in Atlanta Georgia.

The event is put on by the people in the industry I work in.  I didn’t realize it but these people in my industry are not normal people.  [Actually I’ve known that for the last ten years]

These people are passionate, devoted and committed to every minute of their professional life.  To be successful they have to commit more time than any one client can expect and most clients expect more.

But, as wheels touched down in Atlanta last Sunday I was full of trepidation.  First of all, I was traveling for the first time since being sick.  I was headed to a “memorial” golf tourney and thinking I was the token “oh help us feel good sick guy.”  I was supposing the whole thing was a party put on by a bunch of guys off work, golf and toddies galore.  Etc.

I’ve never been more wrong in my life.  Never!

  

I was so proud to belong to a huge group of people that were so passionate about their goal.  As passionate as they are about their clients on any given day they were just as passionate about what they took on as their charges.  Their charges being those of us that need support, love [yes love] and just a smile.

With emotional filled voice I was fortunate to speak to my peers at that dinner.  Speak to these people who held their hand out to me though most didn’t know me from Adam.  Selfishly I hope I touched a few and, yep ever on my soap box, and they will go have their exam.

Most importantly for those of you that find yourself used to taking care of yourself.  Used to never asking for help...

…When a man named Rich corners you before you are going to speak and says “just open your vein and let it all out.”  Do it.  Just do it.  You won’t bleed to death.  You’ll be filled with the humbling spirit of all in whatever room you may find yourself in.

Thanks. 

Talk to you later.

--to you folks that made sure I got to where I was supposed to be last week…thanks