February 23, 2002
Hoorah for CT Scans :P
Well, I had my first, and hopefully last, CT scan on Friday...
The first thing the guy did was lie me on this table-like thing, and tell me to put my shoulders up to where the groove was. The guy then positioned my head, and put this strange strap with the chin cut out on me to hold my head in place. He kept repeating "don't move" which I tried not to do, but did anyway. Everything was so white in the room and it was very uncomfortable lying there not being allowed to move. The guy went in some shielded area and started moving the table, complete with me on it, into the big cyllinder which reminded me a lot of a carnival ride like the Gravitron. He started up the machine, and these red lights which circled around the inside of the cyllinder started glowing and lighting up each rectangle separately. I closed my eyes as I didn't want to see any more of the lights going around. The table I was on would move down periodically to take different pictures of my head, and finally it was done. Then the assistant guy said "she'll come in with the IV soon and we'll redo the photos. It's very important that you don't move just follow her with your eyes."
Wait a minute here...I didn't know anything about an IV. I was already freaking out before the nurse came in waving her needle. When she came in, I started trembling to the point where it was physically obvious. I could barely even talk, but I mustered out "I...h..hate...needles," between my teeth chattering. All she said was "well a lot of people don't like them." Bitch. She tied that horrible rubber strip around my arm, and told me to open and close my fist a few times. I did it, all the while dreading what was ahead. I guess the vein wasn't presenting itself because she slapped my arm a few times, and then it worked. She slid the needle into my arm and I said "ah" like I was about to scream quietly. Just then, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I tried fighting it back, but a couple of lone tears escaped and ran down my cheek. The nurse injected the IV and went through a list of things that would happen that were perfectly normal as the fluid entered my body. Suddenly I could feel my body getting hot from the inside out. It burned horribly, and I found it hard to breathe. Between my fright and the feeling I was getting from the IV fluid, my heart felt like it was going to burst inside my chest. She bent my elbow and let me rest my hand on my stomach while I got the last set of scans done.
I closed my eyes again and just waited for it to be over. When it was, I grew impatient and started shifting around on the table thing again. I was shaking and fighting back tears. I even said quietly "let me out of this." Finally, the nurse came by, took the IV out, and took the weird chin strap off of me. She helped me sit up and bandaged up my IV "war wound." I got up, grabbed my coat, and got the hell out of there as quickly as I could.
On the way out to my car, I began tearing up again. I felt horrible. I got to thinking about people who have things like this as part of a normal routine. I was too weak to handle the one time I've had it done...those people who have cancer and other diseases where these things are a necessity are extremely strong and I admire them. My experience really was nothing, and I admit that, but it definitely gave me a new outlook on those who deal with this constantly. I have a new respect for those people. I could never go through what they do at all.
Posted by ladyx at February 23, 2002 11:21 PM
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You have mine too (both of you).
My grandmother died from cancer. It was about 17 years ago (I was like 6). I barely remember but I remember she was really bad at the end. She could barely walk and she couldn't even go to the bathroom without help. She had a rare form of skin cancer that displayed as these huge external tumors on her legs that just kept growing. You could see it eating her, literally.
She spent her last few weeks in a hospital bed. I remember the day she died. I was at home eating a popcicle and my mom came home from the hospital to tell me that my grandmother wasn't coming home.
My mom says she remembers her saying she wasn't ready to leave on her death bed. She told my mom she didn't want to leave her baby and she wanted to see her grandchildren grow up.
It really sucks. Cancer is so unfair.
I'm sorry to hear about your dad. I've seen what cancer can do to people as I lost a grandfather and a grandmother to it (along with an aunt still having it). I was told that my grandfather, during his last days, relied on nothing but Tylenol to stop the pain and it astonished me. My grandmother was said by the doctors to die within about three months, and she lived over a year. I saw her when she couldn't even hold her head up on her own. She was basically dying before my eyes, and she finally passed when I was out of town. The night before I came back was the night she died, and it was one of the first things told to me when I got home. You and your family have my very deepest sympathies, and I hope you never have to witness the harshness again. I list your father with the other strong, courageous people who have dealt with that horror; he is admired by me, as well.
Thank you for your kind words, too. They are much appreciated.
sorry you had to go through that. but thanks for what you said about people who go through worse. My Dad just died a few weeks ago after 7 months of pure hell. Cancer. And I will always admire him. I hope your scans are okay.
Your posts are amusing.