"Katy, I'm coming into the kitchen!" I hollered.
"Okay, I'm moving over," she hollered back. My pregnant houseguest -- who had to stay at least three feet away from my post-PET-scan glow-in-the-dark body at all times -- gracefully slid into the breakfast nook as I dropped off my dirty dishes in the sink.
Later I leaned over from the mandated distance to hand her some money and she grabbed it with the tips of her fingers and then we both took a standing leap back, nervous that our hands had briefly been separated by only the length of a $20 bill.
It made for a Keystone Kops pas-de-deux last night, but luckily the radioactive tracer dissipates quickly. By now it's fine for us to share close quarters.
The news from the body scan is that everything is probably fine, but I have to trot off for yet another test.
They saw a number of masses on my uterus that were likely fibroids -- something I have a history of -- but they could not rule out an underlying malignancy.
"Hot spots" in your body light up in a PET scan wherever cells are particularly active and excited about the radioactive sugar-solution that's been injected in your veins. That activity is measured by a score called SUV, standardized uptake value. A normal SUV is 4 or lower. Most malignancies measure at 6 or higher, according to Dr. C. My uterine masses scored 5.4.
There was also mild uptake on my left ovary, which could simply signal that I'm about to get my period, she said (and in fact it's due in about a week).
These results are evidently open to interpretation. Some scientists are so dubious about the SUV number that they've dubbed it silly useless value.
My next step: A pelvic ultrasound.
The good news: I've had plenty of those, and they're as noninvasive as a test can be (although they involve having to drink gallons of water and refrain from peeing). And I have to admit, I kinda like that warm goop they rub over your tummy.
Oh My...I'm familiar with the vein search...I always wanted to have to stick out weight lifter or heavy weight whrestler arms with the giant vein rivers, but alas...mine are like yours...I love your description! Glad there's nothing in your wonderful brain except creative knowledge and talent and love! And also glad that you are no longer "glowing" with Three Mile Island radiation! Ugh.
ReplyDeletethat's it for now...love and hugs
Sue
Yes, I had a friend who's SUV's did not match with what they found by scan, so over time it was confusing. I think if they're very high they can serve as a marker/red flag. Sounds like it's time to get a warm oil message from the hubby!
ReplyDeleteI cannot believe Carolyn's great endurance scan just keeps going and going and going. Hang in there, gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't have believed that the recounting of a PET scan, radioactive sugar solution, and ultrasound goop could ever have made me smile. But Carolyn, you've made that happen!
ReplyDeleteYou forgot the radioactive pee! That's my exciting adventure with my recent bone scan to rule out metastasis - the arthritis is so bad they thought the cancer might have taken up residence in my hips and lower back. I never knew I could set off a geiger counter by going to the powder room. Anyway, dear girl, I want to talk to you but have been engaged a few cancer dances of my own - the fun never ends, in case you didn't notice. So let's talk. I wrote a blog entry a week ago that is still too radioactive to post, but I do want to answer your inquiries that you sent via e-mail. At this moment, talk would be easier than prose because the arthritis (hey THANKS, Femara, and all of your aromatease inhibitor incarnations) has made my wrists and fingers (and ankles, and elbows, and spine and feet) feel as though they are on fire, and since I am back at work, I have to conserve my limited energy. So ring me when you have a minute. You are a goddess. Do not forget that. I said so, so it is therefore true. Love!
ReplyDeleteI feel like you have me in excellent training for the day some dastardly diagnosis comes my way. I want to be just like you then! Keep the wonderful role modeling! You seem to be alchemically turning awful adversity into an artistic adventure. You go girl!
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean about the pee! I had to have several ultrasounds before they removed a large cyst (and my left Fallopian tube along with it), and I don't think they knew how small a person I am when they told me how much water to drink. They were also a little overbooked so I had to wait longer than usual. I was just about to piss myself when the nurse saw me sitting there with my legs crossed and my eyes scrunched tight, and told me that I could go pee "just a little." That was no easy task! How do you pee "just a little" when your bladder is about to explode? Also, I don't know about you, but my ultrasound definitely felt invasive since they had to do it internally through my vagina as well. Not something I hope to repeat! I'm so glad your ultrasound didn't turn up anything bad. Hang in there!
ReplyDeleteLove Jordan