May 18, 2006 - Day 2 - Week 7 - Picture Time

The Angeles Clinic in Los Angeles has an image center a few miles from its main office.  You visit for 1 hour and 40 minutes and they take your picture.  Frankly, a bit more expensive than if Ansel Adams or Yousef Karsch took your picture, but the images determine the level of progress of my chemo therapy and that information is priceless.

I arrived at 11:55 am for a 12:00 appointment.  I was immediately invited into the preliminary testing room and had my blood sugar taken, charts read, and intravenous needle placed in the center vein of my right hand.  I have said this before, but it bears repeating, not all technicians are created equal and sometimes having blood drawn or needles inserted is an ordeal.  Find the spot that works best for you and then request the procedure be repeated every time. I ask for a 24 size needle. It is small, but does the trick. Gus, or Gustavo Ramirez is a 64 year old master. When he came to this country from Mexico he became a citizen and served his country during the Vietnam War. During boot camp no one could pronounce Gustavo Ramirez so he became known as Gus Ramsey.  Whenever you need a needle inserted ask for Gus. 

My attending nurse is from Romania. Warm and gracious she exudes joy and we both agreed a little weekly time at the gym is a good routine, hard to maintain, but necessary.  She inquired as to what flavor I preferred in smoothies and I said “surprise me.”  I was requested to drink 50% of the Apple flavored Barium Sulfate Suspension. I drank it quickly, very quickly, very very quickly.   I do not think you will see it at Robek’s Juice emporium anytime soon.

Then 1.0 ml of Fluorine-18 FDG  D was administered intravenously.  This stuff comes in a secure box and the plunger looks like it is made of solid lead.  It is radioactive and it must be registered, secured from a licensed pharmacy, and carefully registered as to who took it when, why and how, and by whom was it given. More security than at our borders or airports.   Now, I thought I was ready for my picture time. No, wrong again; quiet time is required and soft music and dim lights were conducive to napping.

I had to rest, could not even read because it stimulates the brain too much, for one half an hour.  I guess this mandated alone meditative quality time, or whatever it is called, lets the entire tumor imaging potion do what it is supposed to do. I then finished the second half of my yummy treat as rapidly as the first half; maybe in faster.   Now I was ready.

The scan machine is nothing more than a moveable bed that conveys you in and out of a tunnel effortlessly.  The hardest part of the actual scan is keeping your hands and arms stretched high above your head as if you are getting ready to dive into a pool.  The scan takes about 20 minutes and the pillow is soft so I almost dozed off again.

Portrait time completed, now the wait!   Will the tumors be there in the same numbers?  Will they have shrunk or grown?   This is the chemo therapy process for me, and round two of eight is essentially completed.  I have not been knocked to the canvas yet, though a few days had me against the ropes, but I bounced back.  Will report on Wednesday night.

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