Sep 26, 2013 - 3:32 pm
Can’t think of much of anything I hate more…
It’s just that I have a little extra anxiety about getting the scan at this particular facility, because of what happened the first time I had one there.
Everything seemed normal at the start, bit of a drive to the big, fancy, brand-new building (oh really, Group “We Can’t Afford to Pay for Your Scan” Health?), bit of a wait in the waiting room, but no real problems. Then the man came out to take me in for my appointent. We walked down a long hallway, through a door, down another long hallway, through another door, down another hallway, into an elevator, down several floors…ok, so the scanning room is really in the bowels of this place, but that’s pretty normal for radiology stuff, right? Then he escorts me out one last door, and into…the parking lot.
And in front of us is what appears to be...
a taco truck.
1st thought: Oooh, I can get a taco after I get done! Awesome!
.... then I notice the taco truck doesn’t have any windows.
2nd thought: Oh no! This guy is actually a serial killer who abducts unsuspecting cancer patients and dismembers them in his little silver trailer of horror…after giving them an unnecessary scan. A killer who likes to add insult to injury!
(It is possible that I had been sitting at home watching way too many horror movies at this point in my life).
Guy notices the look on my face, says so they didn’t explain to you that we have a subcontractor who comes once a week with a trailer to do the scans?
Oh. Feeling stupid (and hungry) now. Of course I knew that. Just how dumb do you think I am?
Scan results as soon as I get them, guys.
Lots o' love~AA
PS This was something like my 12th scan. I am now on first name basis with my tech (cute little guy from Louisiana), know all about his girlfriend troubles and what not. Being good buds with your scanning tech is possibly not the best sign.
Just got an email from my doc. All is well, still NED. That makes 22 months for me now, which in the world of my tumor type, is equivalent to maybe 5 years in normal stage 4 crc. In fact, something like 80% of people with carcinosarcomas are dead within two years, so this is basically like winning the lottery. I'm happy, but I'd be a hell of a lot happier if I could share my winnings with everyone here. Better go tell my kids and husband...I told you guys first!