Phew. Yesterday was a long day. Today was supposed to be a lot shorter…and praise the Lord, it was.

My sweet sister-in-law picked me up at 4:45 (yes, in the morning) and we went to get the PET scan knocked out before day 2 of treatment began.

When we got there, I went back in a little room filled out a bunch of papers and had to drink several large cups of water with some magic stuff in them. After about an hour, the radiologist, who was rather humorous, came and took me back.

Fortunately, tight spaces don’t bother me…if I was claustrophobic, this would have been a nightmare. I laid perfectly still with my arms raised above my head for about 30 minutes. I guess at one point my head moved because he came back in and said he needed to redo part of it because the pictures of my brain weren’t good.

My panic alarm started going off at this point. I haven’t really shared this with anyone, but since all of this began, I had a really weird feeling that the cancer had spread to my brain. My vision had been becoming blurry, I’ve been having horrible headaches, and I felt lightheaded often. I just didn’t feel right. So when he came in and said he needed to take more pictures of my brain, my eyes filled with tears. That portion lasted about 8 minutes, and then I was done.

Originally Dr. Stone had said that I would have the results by lunch time on Thursday because he was going to be out of the office on Wednesday. Boo. More waiting.

There must have been an angel who heard my prayers. Without me even asking, the radiologist said, “Since you came in so early today, I should have the results ready by lunch today. PRAISE JESUS!

Once he was done, he sent me on my merry way to get a bite to eat before chemo started.

We ran to Einsteins (aka Heaven) and went back for more torture.

They got me all hooked up again, but instead of being in the middle of the room, I was in a far corner and it was lovely! I liked being tucked away. At one point, the nurse came over with a HUGE syringe filled with a bright red substance…she referred to it as “The Red Devil”…well, just sign me up. What’s not appealing about that? I had been told by the nurse the day before that when they give me that medicine, I needed to chew on ice in order to prevent ulcers in my mouth.


I read for a bit (I may need some new reading suggestions) and then Tara and I knocked out some of our Christmas shopping (thanks, Amazon). Before I knew it, it was time to leave.

I figured once we were done I would be ready to head home to rest…but I really just wanted to be out. So, we ran a few errands and met Danny for lunch. It turned out to be a nice little day.

It was kind of weird for me to know that once I left the office that morning, I would have already received the drug that was going to make my hair fall out. There was no going back now. Sigh. This has been the hardest part for me to grasp. I know hair grows back. I know that losing my hair means that the cancer is being destroyed. I know that hair doesn’t make up who you are…I know all of these things.

But I’m still really, really scared, terrified for it to actually happen. In order to start preparing myself, I’m going on Thursday to cut it short and donate it.

I’ve never been one who is over-flowing with confidence, but my hair was something that I really liked about myself. And to know that’s going to be gone…well, it just plain sucks. I’m sad now, but I’ll get over it. This is temporary.

Dr. Stone ended up calling that afternoon with the results of the PET scan. He confirmed that there were enlarged lymphnodes in my chest cavity, but none of this was new news. There was no evidence of cancer anywhere else in my body…thank you sweet baby Jesus. What a relief.


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