The Grand Finale of the week of thyroid cancer testing was the Thyroid Uptake Scan.
I brought Mr. P, he’s my Jesus With Skin On.
I’m looking at this narrow little table, wondering where my head goes, and how I am going to stay on it.
This is how you stay on.
Having your arms tied down isn’t good for claustrophobic people. The technician thoughtfully put a heated blanket over me. A heated blanket isn’t good for
hot-flashing claustrophobic people.
I politely asked him to please remove it.
I was getting fidgety.
I quickly pulled my arms out and braided my hair so little stranglers wouldn’t tickle my face. The towel under my neck wasn’t perfectly straight and I knew that would drive me insane.
My lips were dry but there was no time for chapstick. I had to suck it up.
The technician firmly reminded me that I would have to remain still as soon as he began the machine. I always feel like a naughty child during these tests.
Once the test begins, you cannot move for 45 minutes.
That’s right. 45 minutes.
No talking, itching, jiggling, toe wiggling, or whispering. Nothing.
Scott is along for moral support.
With the old machine, he would sit near my feet and hold them, and sing hymns and share verses with me. It relieves that panic of having something so close to my head,
that if I sneezed, I could do some serious brain damage.
With the new machine, he had to sit behind me and talk.
He has been listening to I Kings, so passed the time by giving me a walk through the Tabernacle.
He talked of the cedar walls covered with pure gold, the inlaid palm trees, open flowers and cherabim adorning the gold. It was so beautiful I closed my eyes and pictured the ornamental details.
He described how each piece of the Tabernacle was made outside, so that there was no sound of saws or hammers inside.
The construction of it was perfect.
Each item was created to perfect measurements, then brought in, and set in place.
Scott started to stammer and I think he was running out of details for his Tabernacle tour. He paused, then said, “Just keep walking, it is a long hallway.”
I almost giggled.
I fought the urge.
There was no way I was going to start this test over.
The machine, folded up after use.
Those things that were above and below are gamma cameras. I was giving off gamma rays because of the radioactive iodine I took on Wednesday. Sounds like some science fiction freak thing, huh? Nuclear medicine is horrifying and amazing all at once.
So, I am off the low-iodine diet for now and have an appointment with the surgeon next Tuesday.
The endocrinologist called this afternoon with the test results, but I was at McDonalds, eating some fatty, nasty, SALTY French fries.
I don’t mind missing the news so I can have Saturday and Sunday to NOT think about cancer.
We’re feeling the peace in the valley.
The Lord has brough us through this emotionally grueling week.
Day Five is Over