Before I even got the PET scan results, I felt as if I knew what they would be: No change. I still have a spot that lights up.
That’s pretty much all I know. It’s not any bigger, but it doesn’t seem to be any smaller.
The best-case scenario is that it’s not still cancer, and that if it’s not cancer, it’s nothing serious.
I’m meeting with my doctor on Monday to discuss options. When I spoke to him a few visits ago, he seemed to think that if the scan showed that the spot was the same size, we would wait and keep an eye on it.
Even if the scan had showed nothing, I’d still be suspicious that the cancer was waiting to sneak back up on me. Yet though this was expected, I’m a little sad. Mostly, I don’t know how to feel, because I don’t know what this PET scan means.
More conclusively, a CT scan showed that the blood clot in my lung is gone. That’s a good thing, because they had to use a big needle for that test, and since I’m out of veins, the nurse said it would hurt. It did. And then they had to put in a bigger gauge. That hurt too. Also, they did the injection slower so it would hurt me less, but it still felt like my arm was being crushed from the inside. It wasn’t horrible, just unpleasant and weird. I felt like my bloody bandage made me look tough on the train, though.
Uncharacteristically, I don’t have much to say at all. I kind of don’t want to talk about the results, because I’m not even going to venture a guess at what they mean.
Also, I’m supposed to be writing about Greece right now, and I’m behind on my deadlines and work.
So for now, I’m just going to keep putting one foot in front of the other to see what’s going to happen next. If I don’t answer emails or inquiries, don’t worry. As always, I’m just scrambling to do as much as possible in this interim of relative wellness.
In my mind, the spot on the scan is shaped like a question mark. I wish it were like a game of Operation where someone could go in and remove it.