I Don't Want To Do This Anymore - The Meltdown

I had a CT scan, which is a test to determine what has been seen on my liver.  I was told there was "something" there by my surgeon from the pre-mastectomy ultrasound.  When the oncologist saw this, he decided further investigation was warranted and ordered a CT scan.  The oncologist said there were actually two "things" there, which he was hopeful were "blood vessels or something".  Yes, let's go with that.  Breast cancer and a mastectomy is enough, thank you.  I don't want to start being hacked into pieces so I asked that he get it all figured out before chemo starts.  So that's the plan.

Since I was apparently driving slowly in the rainy conditions, TeeTee and I were a little late for my appointment.  I jumped out and she went to find parking.  I went to the desk, took a number and went to the second waiting room in the CT scan area.  I went looking for TeeTee and she was looking right at me, then around me, then at me again and then turned to leave.  I waved at her and yelled, "TeeTee, it's me."  It's the new 'do (see blog My New 'Do).  Then I was called in to change into the ever-so-flattering gown and pants ensemble.  The nurse came out and asked for "Karen".  I tried to get TeeTee to go, as that's her name, too, but I guess the outfit gave me away as the patient.  Turns out the nurse was a Karen as well.

Being the needle chicken that I am, I didn't look as Nurse Karen inserted a catheter into my arm.  When I came out to the waiting area, TeeTee looked at it with widened eyes and I admitted I hadn't looked.  She told me not to.  That scared me and I started to cry.  I said, "I don't want to do this anymore."  She told me not to cry, that that would make her cry, too, and she didn't want to ruin her make-up.  Okay then, I won't cry.  I just felt sick.  I guess spending the past five days out of six being poked, tested and "taught" were just taking its toll.

Time for the scan.  I lay on a table with my left arm above my head and my right arm straight up in the air.  The technician said she was going to now push the dye into my arm and we had just five minutes to get this right.  I was to hold my breath when instructed and breathe when told to do so.  I could handle that.  Then she said, "You're going to feel like you have to pee, the back of your throat is going to feel warm and so will other body parts."  I think I just held my breath for the whole five minutes.  When that was done, we had to wait two minutes and take a few more pictures.  More holding my breath, more sensation and then we were done.  When the catheter was removed from my arm, it felt like there was a swimming pool-sized hole left behind.  I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

I was pretty traumatized so we decided to go to "The Living Room" at the Cancer Agency where you can choose a wig or a 'do rag.  We had some laughs trying on wigs.  I came home with a blue-flowered 'do rag.  TeeTee always knows how to distract me when I need it most.  Or maybe it was a much-needed distraction for her.  I know her seeing me upset is upsetting for her as well.  The wigs felt so creepy so I'm not sure I'll ever wear one - probably just toques and scarves for me.

 
TeeTee and I went for some Tim's chili and to the grocery store.  Then I came home and had a nap.  All I could think was that tomorrow I get to go to the Canucks' afternoon game with friends and I don't have another doctor's appointment scheduled until November 7th.  Oh, wait, I will get a call to go for port insertion surgery.  Oh, well, for the weekend at least, I can breathe easy.  I still don't want to do this anymore.

Feeling goofy in leopard toque

Me and Tee in wigs - a preview of old age!

My first headscarf