Cats and scans and computer-aided distractions

Surprisingly, I didn't have too much trouble getting to sleep last night, even after discovering my new love of tea, Earl Grey, hot. I prepped by removing all of my piercings so I wouldn't have to struggle with them in the morning. Squish tried to give me a few new piercings as his food was running low; he panics when the bowl develops spaces. Sorry, lil buddy. The crohnchy treats and catnip seemed to do us both some good.

I was up bright and early for the CAT scan this morning. I was jonesing for my morning tea, and at the very least, some water, but they said I could have no fluids for 3 hours prior. My mouth felt like it was full of sand; I could swear that my eyeballs were wrinkly, but no water means no water.
I got lost on the way to the imaging center, but still made it with 10 minutes to spare. It wouldn't have mattered if I had been late; the CAT folks were late themselves. 40 minutes later, the radiologist came for me and explained what would be going on. He said they would be giving me an IV. The first scan woulld be of my nech with no contrast dye and the second would be of my lungs, with contrast. Lungs? Apparently the doctor ordered it just this morning. Fuck. Ok. I'm not going to get into the multitude of things running through my head at this point.

The radiologist brought me in, plopped me on the table and popped in the IV, aligned me and scanned away. A robot voice instructed me when to breathe, when to hold my breathe and when to exhale. Along with the voice, there was this little illuminated illustration directing me. It was ridiculously cheery and I struggled to keep from giggling when it turned green.

Neck. Done. Chest. Done. I was expecting him to come get me - there was a long pause, about a minute or so, then he announced that they were starting a second scan of my lungs. This one took longer. I'm surprised I didn't burst a blood vessel. Why were they running a second scan? Why was this one taking so long? What do they see??

They finish up and a woman comes over and removes the IV. Where was the guy? Why did he go away? Did the image show something so horrific that he needed to Run.Away.Now.? The woman told me to hop down from the table, but I told her that I couldn't see the floor; the guy took my glasses and didn't tell anyone where they were. After a few minutes of searching, she found them. I put them on and found what I interpreted to be a worried expression on her face. I asked, "so, what did you see?" "We don't read them. We're just photographers." Of course, she's hiding something from me. Or not. This is what worry does.

I stopped for some cat food on the way home. Squish would be happy. At the very least, it would relax him enough to let me borrow him for some full-face burrowing time. That always helps. But I need more distraction, so here I sit on the computer, doing anything and everything I can to keep from browsing to medical sites or to keep from refreshing my medical record page to see if the test results are in. I can play World of Warcraft for about 5 minutes until the distraction wears thin. Read a few sites. Thinner, still. Gah! Maybe I'll take a nap. Nope.

So now I wait. I could hear something today, tomorrow, next week, who knows. I hate waiting, I hate not knowing. Exactly a month ago today, I received a phone call from NPR saying, "I'm sorry, but I have bad news". That feeling is so fresh in my mind that I fear it again today. It's much easier to deal with bad news from a potential employer rather than your doctor, though. It's not as simple as "something is wrong" or "nothing is wrong". There's a big lumpy thing in my neck, so it's a matter of -which- thing is wrong and how treatable is it. But right now, I just don't know, and it's driving me nuts.

So I wait, with distractions. Computer, Tea, Earl Grey, Hot. And some facekitty, too.