Zen and the Art of Cancer Maintenance

This morning while getting prepped for my CT/PET scan I had the strongest urge to graffitti the walls in my private little waiting chamber- to carve my initials into the side of the cupboard or to stick some gum under the "recliner" with a note that included my phone number. Before the scan you have to sit in a rather stiff chair that leans partly back and be very still while you drink the white barium concoction. The stillness is to slow down your metabolism (the Chief Reseracher informed me of this) so that your don't have "blurs" on the scan, and the barium cocktail is for contrast in your gut. I've grown fond of the nasty white drink - preferring the berry flavor over the pina colada. It's kinda like perfuming a plate of fish - I mean who are they kidding. Back to my destructive notions. I wished to leave a message for those that followed me, or to read one from those that came before me. The tribe really could liven up the place given a few spray cans and a kitchen knife. The PET scan machine freaks me out a little bit. I kept my eyes closed so that I wouldn't know how long I was enclosed in the "tunnel" part of the machine (which by the way, sounds vaguely like a cross between a computer printer and a dishwasher.) Afterwards, when I checked out the machine I mocked the scaredy cat part of myself for feeling claustrophobic (really, I told myself, it's not that small of a tunnel). If I had it to do again though I'd still keep my eyes closed during the procedure. I do like how they tuck you into a scooped out half cylinder and velcro you into position, head cradled in a foam form, like a cozy cancer papoose. Another skill I learned during chemo (yep, add it to the list) was how to zone out and semi-snooze through just about anything. Not only did this help today (45 minutes in the exam room with the white stuff being quiet, and 25 minutes of utter stillness in the PET tube being moved back and forth) but Friday during my root canal I fell asleep during part of the two hour pound-a-thon happening in my mouth. Dr. Root-Canal thought it was his mouthy skills but I knew better. When finding my way out of the Huntsman Center maze to my darling Canoe (who got me to the Center by 6:15 am and saw me safely to my appointed spot)I got a few semi-terriorized looks from waiting patients who had full heads of normal hair and no signs of treatments. It ain't all bad I wanted to tell them, but decided they'd figure it out on their own. My Mom said she thinks the scan is gonna be good. I told her that it is what it is, and that I'll do what I need to do. It's Zen and the Art of Cancer Maintenance - which is loads more zenny then the hair maintenance I experienced in February. My I've grown up nicely into a lovely career cancer patient. Awwww...