Like a Roller Coaster - But Less Fun

I find it weird that we draw a similarity between difficult times, an emotional roller coaster, and the real thing- like at an amusement park.

I haven't been on a roller coaster for a while, but I recall them being fun.  You know, anticipation and excitement.

Here is how I recall it going: You are in line and think about chickening out, but cannot come up with an excuse your friends will believe. So you psych yourself up.  "It won't even last too long",  "We will have fun", "I am going to concentrate on smiling when we go past that camera so I don't look too freaked out in the picture".

Finally, you get on the ride and the clank of the safety bar rings with a hallow ting as it locks into place.  And you think, "if it is hallow is probably isn't very strong.  Everyone is going to hear about me crashing from the top on the 10 o'clock news. They will think, 'I am so glad it wasn't me'."

Now you don't care what your friends think, you just want to run!  But, it is to late.  Slowly the ride lurches into motion.  Even slower still it makes the first climb.  "Why didn't they put a stronger motor on this thing so it would be over already?"  Almost at the top and you decide, "I am not going to fall" and your knuckles are poking out of the white skin wrapped over them.

The first fall seems to be moving at the speed of a frame-by-frame instant replay.  The ride starts to speed up and you are tossed from side-to-side around turns and in loopy-loops.  Flash! I forgot to smile.

Your body starts to get used to the sharp motions of the turns.  You are starting to laugh in between screams.  Just as you catch your breath, the ride is over.  You want to stay for one more round, but they make you leave your seat as the next glazed-eye passenger embarks.

Well, there are twists and turns in your emotions when you have cancer.  You lurch from side to side and try to maintain some level of composure through it all, but flash! another surprise catches you with your mouth wide open and panic in your eyes.  


The difference is you don't start to enjoy the ride and you don't want to stay on for another spin.  You get off, sad to leave behind the friends you have spent every week with since it all began, and charge the crowd trying to outrun the clutches of "Mets".

I thought after I got over the first week of knowing my cancer was back it would start to feel like I was back on the ride I jumped off less than 5 years ago.  I thought I would get the swing of things and feel ready to keep racing up and down the track with the goal of getting off the ride for good to drive me forward.  Wrong.

Today was a drop down, a loopy-loop, flash! bang! roller coaster kind-a day. 

But, this isn't a roller coaster.  Roller coasters are fun. This is scary.  And, when you have to take responsibility for decision about which track to follow it leaves you second-guessing yourself.  Did I make the wrong turn?  Does the track ahead of me end?  Will it meet back up with the end of the ride or will I end up just looping around until...

Last night I kept thinking of these promises: "I am THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIGHT" and "My PEACE I give unto you".

And tonight driving from work to daycare I saw several cars with that "Life Is Good" saying on bumper stickers or tire covers.  I wanted to roll my window down and shout, "No it's not, you idiot".  I didn't do it; I do have some composure still.  

Then I thought- maybe I should stop fighting it and consider that Heavenly Father might want to tell me "Your life is good.  I am in charge. I will take care."  After all, Jesus Christ- my brother- is on my side too.  He is offering THE WAY marked by HIS LIGHT.

So I decided, white-knuckle-gripped, I am going to stay on this ride! And when it is over I am going to rush the crowd and get back to the life I was pretty happy with before I was forced on this non-fun emotional roller coaster.

I am not going to be on the news tonight or any night.  

I AM THANKFUL FOR:

Cards from Mom's Cousin

Mama Jean "Medicine" (grams, sugar, almonds- ya know?)

Sisters to whine to on the phone

Mom and Dad

My Babys

Thanksgiving

Co-Workers who redecorate for Thanksgiving immediately after Halloween

AWESOME Daisy troopers who want to help

Veggies

Diet Coke

Google

... shall I go on? 
Life is Good!...          

Naps on the PET/CT Scan Table

If you are new to cancer world you might like to know what it is like to have a PET/CT Scan.  I always wanted to read a patients account of each treatment type before I had it, because it let me get psyched up.

This morning (6:30 am) I had my PET/CT.  This radioactive, glow-in-the-dark, chills-up-your-spine test itsn't such a big deal, as long as it all goes as planned.  I have had a few.  I do remember my first test though.  The second biggest problem was my nerves.  I just didn't know what to expect.  The biggest problem was the inscy-wincy spider that was spinning a web on the machine.  He was just little, but I just wanted him to go away and not drop down onto my body and crawl up to  my face.  Yes, that was my true fear.

Today's scan was critter free.  

What is a PET/CT Scan Like?
It all starts with trying to limit any physical activity for a day or two before the test.  You don't want any parts of your body metabolizing if you can help it.  Of course this means nothing to eat or drink after midnight... you know the drill.  Because of the fasting, I like to get the test done early.  Also, it is safe to assume that following the test and a good meal you can go back to work, so save as many sick days/hours as possible and just get this out of the way.

When you arrive at the radiology center you will be swept away to a small room with a hospital grade lazyboy recliner.  Using either old-fashioned veins or your sporty-modern port, you will get pumped up with radioactive contrast.  The reactions to this vary.  Some people have a metalic taste in their mouth, I have to steady my equilibrium. Whatever you feel, don't freak out just tell the tech.  I figure, they are trained to know "weird" vs. "scary" reactions, so just keep them informed.

Now you get 60 minutes to nap.  Just kick back, sleep if you can, and let that contrast circulate through your whole body. Admittedly if you aren't used to the plastic lazyboy this may be tough.  If you can't sleep sometimes they have quiet music they can play.  Again, communicate with the tech.  Let him know if you are nervous and see what they can do for you.

Once your entire body is "glow-in-the-dark" (you don't really glow) you get to trade in that icky plastic chair for the narrowest, flattest, coldest board ever made. 30 minutes!  You will get to lie on your back.  And, don't worry, they aren't afraid you will go crazy, everyone gets strapped in.  Just think, if you fall asleep you don't have to worry about your arms slidding off the board. This is the bone-chillin part of the exam.  They keep the scan room pretty cool.  I suggest wearing yoga pants and a longer sleeve t-shirt. Whatever you do, make sure you aren't wearing anything metal or you will have to change into a hospital issued drafty-dress. Brr.
You will "ride" all the way through the machine once or twice.  I think this is to get everything lined up between you, the machine, and the computer read-out.  Then you will move back through the machine as it scans one section of your body at a time.  It is slow, but harmless. That's it.  You can now go get something to eat and get back to the business of your life because all this hype leads up to some more waiting.

You take the test, but the results have to be processed, read by a professional (i.e. not the tech who just spent 2 hours with you) and then results formalized and sent to your oncologist.

So you'll wait.  Like I am waiting now.

Cancer will teach you to really control your mind or it will make you insane.
This blog helps me.  This isn't  my first time to the rodeo.  Because I have had cancer before with a full round of treatment and several scary tests that came back to show everything was fine, I am waiting until I tell most friends and family about this round of tests.  If it is serious, then I will cope with breaking the news again, planning childcare and treatment plans, and psyching myself up for whatever it is.  But, for now it is just me and you.  (You being anyone in the world that finds my blog, so I guess there are a lot of us)  I am giving myself the treatment.  Breakfast out as a reward for taking my test.  Calm days at work- no stress allowed. And enjoying the fact that for today I am cancer free. 
Whether I am cancer free tomorrow after seeing the doctor or not, I am free today.  And, today is all that matters.

I really hope that you get a good zen place.  Learn to control your mind so you can control your emotions and stress, and find your strength.  Is it you and blog world? You and a best friend? A religious leader? What ever it is, Be Strong. Be Beautiful.