the 'C' word : Because I Am One & CT re-Scan

Today at the hospital I parked in a "Cancer Patient" parking spot.
Because I am one...
...and thus justified my choice.
Also because after circling around the parking lot a few times those were the only open parking spots in the lot nearest the door I thought I was supposed to go in (that's a clue!) and...
Because. I. Am. One.

Today's procedure is a "CT neck/chest (soft tissue neck) w/contrast, re-staging NHL" as ordered by my C-Dr at last appointment and will be compared to the PET/CT scan done last June. It was the PET part of that scan that identified where the cancer activity was. The 'contrast' is stuff put into an IV then circulates in my blood and through my body so the area they're looking at shows up on the scan. This link explains the procedure very well.

Checked in at the same desk as my PET/CT scan last June only to be told this area was for cancer patients and the regular CT scans were done in Radiology farther down the hall. Obviously she didn't recognize my name on the schedule, or maybe did I have too much hair on my head? Caught me off guard a bit and then felt a small need to explain telling her (recognized as same gal that checked me in for the PET/CT) this was where I'd had the PET done so thought it was same place for today. Live and learn. On my trek to radiology waaay down the hall I passed another hospital entrance closer to a different parking lot and realized the Cancer Patient parking was probably really intended for patients receiving treatments in the cancer center in that end of the hall and section of hospital I'd just left. Probably. Hoped I didn't take a spot from someone who needed it more but by now there was no way I was going all the way back to move the car. And...

...Because I am one.

Finally got to the radiology check-in and completed more paperwork and then the waiting game begins. After about 20 minutes the nurse called me and it was down another hall as she says she'll get the IV for the contrast started while they wait for the room to become available. Once IV was in then I'm told she needs some blood to test for kidney function. Apparently the 'contrast' can be hard on the kidneys so that's good they check but did give me some pause for concern. Well, the chemo is hard on my kidneys too and the reason I drink so much water but while I'm not overly worried I'm hoping I pass this test so we can get to the scan. Later the gal comes back and says kidney check was good but room still isn't ready. Time to pull out the phone and play some games. Oh, and by planning ahead for what I wear (no metal above waist) I can stay in my street clothes and avoid the need for those glamorous hospital gowns. Yup, that was my plan, and it worked!

About 10 minutes later she comes back and we head to room with the CT machine and equipment. This picture is kinda close to what it all looked like...except I had no blanket on top of me and there were no curtains to the side and there was no monitor to look at and there was no camera hanging from the wall and no big blue cart to the side...but there was 'the tube' and a skinny table/bed thingy to lie on that raises up and down and slides you in and out!

Once situated on the table/bed it took several more minutes before they got started. First was scan of neck--the table/bed slides you in and a loud whirring noise starts up then a voice louder than the whirring noise comes over a speaker and says "Take a breath and hold it" so you do. About the time you think you might pass out the voice says "You may breathe normally" and you're glad you can. Then several more minutes pass and the tech gal comes back into the room (they all hide out in a 'safe room' next to the CT machine) and says the 'contrast' is about to go in my IV. She'd asked me earlier if I'd ever had it done before (don't they read the paperwork I filled out today?) and told her yes and then she asked if I remember what it felt like. Oh yes. Last May when I had the CT scan of my neck done at the clinic the guy tech there gave me several warnings that when he injected the 'contrast' there would be a "warm feeling like you've wet yourself, but it's just a feeling" and you're a bit apprehensive about what he means...until it happens and you know exactly what he means...and he's correct and you're relieved your pants are dry. Still, it really is a weird feeling. So, with the warning she gave I was prepared. The body circulatory system is an amazing thing: I shouldn't be surprised, but am, at how quickly (just like last May, less than a second from when the contrast is put through the IV) that warm feeling happens. Back through 'the tube' again for another scan of the neck and this time also a scan of my chest area. More of the speaker voice telling me when I can and can't breathe. After several minutes the scan is complete, my IV is removed, then I'm escorted out of Radiology and make the trek waaay back to the car and to the Cancer Patient Parking spot...
...Because I am one.

P.S. while searching the internet for images of CT scanners I also found these and thought I'd share.

How do you tell a turtle to "Take a breath and hold it"?

Or any other critter for that matter!

At first glance this table/bed reminded me more of the table you see used for lethal injections of death row inmates at the prison. Must've been those straps hanging down the side.