PET scan; not A, not B

A PET scan seems like the usual kind of test until they bring out the lead box containing a syringe that is itself encased in lead, and inject the contents of the syringe into the vein. It's like something out of an old movie ("You ssseee, Mister Bond, we have our waysss of getting information." Only Sean Connery could respond with the exact mix of horror and the appreciation that this is all much too over-the-top so it's all in good fun, really).
The scan was supposed to give us all the answers, but it turns out that nothing is that simple. Our appointment with the Keene radiologist was something of a bust, because he hadn't read the results, which weren't available yet anyhow and which, in any case, he isn't an expert in analyzing . He wasn't about to go out on a limb to tell us what it all meant, except that as far as he could see the lungs look clear. (Yes!)
On Monday we start bugging them again for more info, but meanwhile I realized that I've been looking at this wrong. It isn't a simple set of equations, with everything clear=Plan A=probable happy ending, vs. metasteses all over the place=Plan B= ride off into the sunset. I should be thinking of it as either a tree diagram or as plotting a novel. There are too many variables going off in too many directions, with too many possible new twists for anyone to be able to make any ultimate assumptions right now.
I've had so many tests, and I'm grateful for them. I think that they've mapped the critical area better than it's ever in human history been possible to. They'll know exactly what they're targeting, and I'll be getting state of the art treatment. But as the old saying goes, if you want guarantees, buy a washer.

.... All of that being said, I just got a call from the oncologist, who says that the PET scan came up generally clear except for the pancreas, and that they plan to stick with the original treatment protocol. So if I hadn't persuaded myself out of believing in Plan A or B, this would definitely be Plan A. Joy!