Musings From a Big Metal Tube

Waiting rooms are the worst.

Most of the time I can distract myself from the reality of my situation by staying busy thinking about planning and schedules and supplies I'll need for the next 6 months of fun. However, when I'm sitting in a waiting room, all I can think about is what I'm there for.

And waiting for tests is even worse.

Yesterday I had a PET scan. I've never had any kind of scan except an x-ray, so this whole process was pretty new to me. For a PET scan they inject you with a radioactive tracer that then flows through your body and gets soaked up by your cells. Cancer cells apparently soak up more of this tracer because they are hungry, so when they do the scan cancer cells anywhere in your body show up as brighter or "hotter" areas on the image. (Yup, that means my boobs are hot!) This is probably one of the few times in my life where I'm hoping that no one thinks any other parts of my body are hot.

Did I mention that the radioactive tracer they injected me with came in a big, industrial metal syringe? And that after he injected me the tech told me not to hug anyone or pet any puppies for a couple hours? Awesome.

I then sat in a waiting room alone for an hour waiting for my cells to gobble up the radioactive goodies flowing through me. In the waiting room I was assaulted by the Today Show's Breast Cancer Awareness week festivities. People wearing pink running around obstacle courses or sitting in dunking booths all cavorting for the good cause of "Breast Cancer Awareness". They interviewed a smiling lady who had hit it big on social media when her daughter gave her a pink mohawk in support of her upcoming double mastectomy.

Needless to say, I cried.

Then I laid in a big metal tube for 45 minutes as they tried to hunt down additional cancer cells. Those big metal tubes give you good thinking time, I guess. Although, as I mentioned, I've been trying not to do a lot of independent thinking lately.

What I came up with was surprising even to me. I was thinking about impermanence. Buddhism teaches that all existence is transient, or in a constant state of flux. The Buddha also teaches that all conditioned phenomena are impermanent, and that any attachment to them becomes a cause of future suffering. In most parts of my life I whole-heartedly embrace change and impermanence. It seems, though, when I think about my self-image and my future life, I'm really scared of change. I had a whole plan of how things were going to be that I had become attached to, and now that I'm losing that plan, I am suffering. So, if I were to have coffee with the Buddha, he would probably say to me to let go and embrace impermanence. It might make me happier. That is, to let go of the tangible things I am attached to and embrace the intangible things that are really important - health, love, friendship. Deep, huh? Guess I'll try to make a go of it. Hopefully it wasn't just the radioactivity bringing me clarity.

Today I sat in a waiting room again. MRI this time. But no Today Show thankfully. Again, I cried a little, although I'm not sure why. I think embracing impermanence takes a little time. The whole cancer thing does make you feel pretty alone, too. Even though I have the most amazing group of supportive friends and family, its really just me dealing with the whole impermanence thing. I guess that's just part of it.

The MRI was a little different than the PET scan. I had to lie face down this time with my face in a little donut pillow while the machine clicked and thumped all around me. I tried to pretend I was just getting a massage. It didn't work.

This time I didn't have any deep thoughts. I just thought about the retail therapy I was going to do afterwards. Retail therapy at Target always makes me feel better. I guess that's something that doens't change.

When I get home I think I'll have a cocktail.
I think you should have one, too.

Cocktail pairing: Chai liqueur and irish cream in a hot cup of coffee.