HUGE sigh of relief… my PET scan was clear today and so I get another six months. I do wonder if this is becoming “routine” for those reading and – like with some people I know – I get the “oh, don’t worry, you’re going to be fine!” thing beforehand and the “I knew you’d be okay!” afterwards. Which I know is a way of people saying that they are hoping for the best. But sometimes it feels like it is diminishing my own feelings about these tests.
I will be having PET scans every six months until next year and, if all is still well by that time, the scans will then be reduced to once a year. Why? Because I am still considered very high risk for recurrence. And why do I worry so much when I’ve had clean scans for the past four years? Because I’ve already lost a dear friend who was “cancer-free” for four years and another dear friend has been struggling through his latest recurrence for the past year or so. Trust me, these tests are very expensive. They don’t just do them as a matter of course – you have to be considered high risk.
Which is me.
Anyhow, I went off in the rain early this morning and was thrilled to see that the lovely Pilar was a part of my PET team today. She is such a lovely person and a long-time friend. You may recall that back when I was sick on chemo and desperate about how I was going to get through the summer she gave me a month. So it was great finding out that she was on duty today. After my first run through the PET machine I sat with her in the computer room watching my scan images spinning around… first time I’ve ever done that. Pili showed me how this bit was like this, another bit like that. Kind of cool and also a bit freaky. Then we went off for breakfast and after that I had to go through the machine again (this almost always happens because I have a dodgy area that needs rechecking) and then suddenly I was okay!
But you know, after all the build-up of stress and worry it actually takes awhile for the Good News to sink in. So Peter met up with me and we went for a celebratory glass of Botani at the Vineria San Telmo, and then it was a walk home in the rain…
Now I’m here all cosy and thankful and kind of floppy, to be honest. This whole ordeal really takes it outta me. So I think I’ll just take it easy this afternoon and evening. The Next Six Months can start mañana…
casa azahar 
Good to hear! I think it is completely justified to feel scared each time the scan comes around given your risk status for the reasons you’ve explained. It is also completely justified to celebrate a clean diagnosis :). Big hug.
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Big Hug back, cherie!
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Yay! I’m so, so glad. It makes sense to me that you are floppy. All the thinking about the what ifs must be exhausting. Glad that you are taking it easy.
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Floppy and limp like a wrung out dish rag. But at least I’m RELAXED. Tomorrow it’s back to the gym.
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Fan dabby dozie
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Such a way with words. Thanks Johnny.
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Well, you know, some of us have it and some of us don’t!
I will confess to being one of the “oh, don’t worry, you’re going to be fine!” beforehand and “I knew you’d be okay!” afterwards brigade, but I don’t say so because while that is how I genuinely feel, this is about how you feel, and I know that you don’t find that helpful because you are worried (with good reason).
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YAY!
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🙂
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your brilliant news brought bright sunshine through my window! not a common sight in these here parts, especially as only a 100 miles or so down the M4 they are knee (slight exaggeration) deep in snow, so I am very grateful to you. xxx
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And I’m always grateful for you. xx
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I admire how well you handle all the medical stuff. I can’t begin to imagine how it feels waiting for those results every time. I’m so glad you’re OK.
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I am so amazingly lucky that ten years ago I gave English classes to the head of Nuclear Medicine and his team at this hospital. They became friends and then a few years later I ended up needing their help. Without them I’d be lost.
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I’m very glad your Pet scan came back clear. You are remarkably resilient. I think I would have to get blazing drunk, or sleep for 24 hours, or run until I dropped (which at this fat stage in my life would be about 5 minutes). Such high tension, then some modicum of relief, underlain with always the thought of next time. ug. Anyway, congrats. I hope you are the one who beats the odds.
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Me too! Though of course I can only beat them for so long. Can’t live forever. But yeah, it’s always quite the emotional rollercoaster ride around Scan Time.
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YEAAA! I never feel casual about reading that it’s your scan day — even if I think you’ll be fine, well I’m a worrier plus it’s a miserable ritual. I’m glad you have such good people in your corner.
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I have the best people ever in my corner. Including you. You know, I don’t even mind the weird PET scan ritual anymore, getting all radioactive, the time in the machine, etc etc. It’s not knowing how it’ll all turn out that gets to me. I was lucky again today. Phew!
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My brother had 2 tumours removed from his spine 2 years ago. They weren’t sure he’d make it to that Christmas, but here he is, still going strong. I’m thankful for every day, and I know he is too – but every time he goes for a scan…well, you know.
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Oooh, yep. I do know. Scary as all fuckity.
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This just in from my dear friend Jed who was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer five years ago – just like me – and now has inoperable tumours in his lungs…
“You and I are living in penalty time. Let’s live large”
And now I can’t stop crying.
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I’m very glad you’ve had another clear pet scan, but sorry you feel so sad now. That may be part of the “living large” thing – you love large, which leaves you wide open to the pain of those you love.
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The crying isn’t exactly about sadness, Deb. Just that this man is so damn beautiful and also writes beautifully. He almost always leaves me in tears.
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I am deeply moved by your courage, bravery and the determination you have not only to enjoy your life but also to survive the cancer. But there is something else – your enthusiasm for others to enjoy the things around them. Reading through the comments on here you are obviously hugely infectous – everyone catches your ability of simple joys.
You an only be admired – well done for getting through today, as scary as it was – you did it!
.
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Well, the wine helped. 😉
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Yay! I had to work hard today, so I didn’t have the time to check earlier. But this is good news! You don’t mind if I take the liberty of doing a little yay-dance in my livingroom?
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You don’t mind if I join you? 🙂
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Yay!
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I’m so glad to hear the good news. Pet the kitties and eat some carbs!
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Thanks Lee! Umm… do I know you? If not, welcome! 🙂
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Such good news :hug:
:snoopydance:
xx
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🙂
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I’m very happy to hear the good news each time you post them. I think you’re coping very well with the fears and the stress (well, it looks like it from here). I sometimes wonder if I’d even take up the fight in the first place. Wtg! xx
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Thanks! But it’s not actually a fight, Bel. You just keep on getting out of bed in the morning, when you can. Because that’s life.
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Great to hear, Shawn!!
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Yes, I thought so too. 🙂
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Just catching up after returning from snowy Guernsey yesterday afternoon! So glad to hear you’ve had the all clear for another six months. x
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Thanks Alison!
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Happy news and I’m very glad for you. I just returned from Mexico, tanned and happy but had to treck my luggage through three feet of snow to get to my front door. Winter continues hard through March! So much snow that I could almost cry! It’s still as high as my waist! 😦 Awe but life is so good and this shall pass. May good health and happiness continue.
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Thanks Dawn. Came across this the other day on Twitter and thought of you…
Snowbanks in Winnipeg
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So pleased for you! 🙂
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