As I went in today for my radiation prep, a tiny spider crawled along the steering wheel and reminded me that it's spring. I brushed it off the wheel, hoping I hadn't hurt it.
Then, while I was waiting for my appointment, I felt as though something was crawling under my T shirt. After I'd wiggled as unobtrusively as possible, I discovered that I'd brought the spider into the waiting room. It strolled around under my shirt and finally came out onto my sleeve. I flicked it off onto a plant, wondering if this was some sort of omen, and if so, of what.
I met with the radiologist, who told me all about the side effects I can expect (nausea, diarrhea, exhaustion), told me the set-up (I'll start the radiation/chemo on May 12th for five and a half weeks) and then said, with great excitement, that I was really lucky because their brand-new CAT scanner was up and running as of today, and it's much faster than the old one. When I said, "Oh, so you're practicing on me," he said very seriously, "No, of course not. We've used it already -- on one other person."
So I went in for the CAT scan, with the usual hospital johnny, IV with a contrast dye, and instructions to lie still. The room was crowded with three techs plus two trainers.
Conversation on their part was limited to further reminders for me to lie still and mutterings among themselves along the lines of "No, you don't attach that there,"
"Should the readings be this high?"
"This is really different from the old one. What is that for?", none of them leaving me totally confident.
Then they all left the room for the machine to do its work. As reminded (again) I lay still. Because the machine was new and the trainers long-winded, it apparently took more time than usual, but I was fine until I remembered the spider.
Believe me, there's nothing like having to lie completely motionless to give you hallucinations of arachnids crawling all over you. I managed not to twitch.
After the techs tattooed little dots on my middle to guide the radiation, they finally let me move and watched with fascination as I shimmied and flapped my arms. I had to asssure them that I was fine and that their wonderful new machine hadn't hurt me.
Spring is wonderful. Nature is wonderful. But next time, I kill the spider.
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4 comments:
Oh Geez, that would be disconcerting. I wonder where this goes? hmmmm.... why is that red light flashing like that???? lie still. Right. Boy you have some high discipline and determination. And all the while thinking of the spider. Hee ehhhehe.
I think what this omen of the spider portends is that you will take up spinning and go on a really fun spinning retreat next year. Maybe I'll come too!
All the best.
I just got caught up on your blog Lucie. I enjoy your writing and wit so much! I am abit behind because Tosh and Vicki had their baby girl Sunday night 11:30 P.M. She weighed in at 7 lbs. and is 21 inches long. All fingers and toes are there and she has a head full of dark brown hair to boot! She is a little miracle.
A friend told me this is a good read you might want to check it out " The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch. Have a great visit with your family and post some pictures! We loved the great shot of Jerry and Miles. What a fine lad he has grown into!
I go out of my way to not kill spiders too Lucie. Most of the time except yesterday when I sucked one up my central vac system.
i'm impressed by anyone that can be still for a CAT scan. especially with thoughts of a spider crawling around. i am incredibly claustrophobic. just the thought of it makes me panic. jeremy had to have one a few years ago and he got so freaked out his shirt was soaking wet when he was done.
and i have to admit.....i am a spider killer.
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