Dear lord, it's a comin!

April 28th. The PET scan. Thankfully I had a good friend who invited me into her home, sat me down and told me her cancer journey, shared some advice, and most immediately needed, what to expect with a PET scan.

I feel like I've been waiting for this test since the 12th when my CT scan results came back with the recommendation. It's been only two weeks and yet it seems like the day couldn't come fast enough, while being dreadful. How long will the results take to get back? Will my doctor finally give the c-word as a diagnosis? Will there be a biopsy? Do I start the doomsday planning? But I'll finally have some more information to guide this journey and process.

AND - the appointment with the Pulmonologist got moved forward to April 29th. So, with or without the PET scan results, I'll have another medical professional weigh in on what the heck is going on.

PET scan. Never done one, never talked to anyone that had been through one. My explanation to everyone is that it's like a fireworks show. They inject you with a substance that greedy little cancer cells like to gobble up more than anything else. And so if there is cancer, the scan shows all the little fireworks of where cancer can be and is. Hoping to have a very small fireworks show.

So as my girlfriend described it (in my own recanting): you enter a room with a Barcalounger where you settle in for a cozy visit. Alien person in hazmat suit enters room with dangerous substance all packed up like the nuke switch. Substance may or may not glow. Inject patient with radioactive sugar (yep, cancer likes sugar). Patient lays back and relaxes in depravation chamber while the freak juice circulates to the last appendages. Then, it's time for the giant donut ride. Two CT scanners back to back (essentially) where you must lay down. Very little movement from the time the butt hits the lounger to this moment. Because if you move too much (or think too much), your muscles will want to use up all that radioactive sugar, taking away from the cancer cells. And it could be a very confusing fireworks show. Afterwards, you are a true monster. A radioactive being that should avoid kittens, pregnant women and youngins. Yeah, so you are mildly radioactive following this for at least 6 hours and should... double flush the toilet in a shared bathroom (flushing down any excess radiation that is peed out), stay away from crowds and certainly don't hunt for a Geiger counter to see how powerful you now are.

Luckily for me, I promptly flew to San Diego for an extended weekend away with friends. I did purchase the $29 each way tickets on Southwest a long time ago, but the timing couldn't be more perfect. I got to spend 4 days NOT focused on the could be and coming up. We went wine tasting and found a perfect vineyard puppy to share snacks with AND were able to close out the evening in a local dive bar featuring open mike night. We did a sunset booze cruise on the harbor and visited a cat café. (Hopefully one of those fluffers will go home with my friend soon). Walked around Gaslamp and happened upon a street fair. Did a day in La Jolla walking about, drinking more wine and in true Karen happenstance fashion, delighted in the fancy car sights of the La Jolla Concourse. Lastly, a full day spent walking, walking, walking at the Zoo (just under 6 miles of terrain covered). I stayed up late, got sunshine, slept in, chatted late into the night ala sleepover style, and really really got to escape and relax. Most of my travel plans are constantly moving, no stopping, and more exhausting than relaxing. So this was a nice change of pace. And I am so grateful for generous and caring friends that let me be "taken care of" by sitting in the back seat of the car, finding gluten free food and options for me, and toted my rear around town to see the sights and activities I thought would be fun.

Next update should be a big one!