I have to get down to 7 mR at three feet in order to leave - as of 4:05, I'm at 15, which means I'll probably have the body scan tomorrow and get thrown out of the Bap, then have to come back Friday for the tumor marker blood tests.
I have a bad taste in my mouth and am a little nauseous - both very common side effects.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Millicuries and stuff
Radiation is measured in curies; I had 100 mR of iodine-131. Other than a funky taste in my mouth, I feel no change - waiting to become the incredible hulk. I've already talked to two clients and answered some emails (plus approved zaps, CABLE friends). It's excitement city here at the Bap (sounds cooler than Baptist Hospital so I shall forever call it the Bap). Time for a nap at the Bap - zzzzzzzzzz
The hot light is on . . .
I can see Krispy Kreme from my window!
It's 9:30 and I'm snuggled in my lovely hospital gown. I have managed not to moon anyone yet. I've been down to nuclear medicine for a consultation with the radiologist (Dr. Gregory Weaver) and now I'm back upstairs waiting for my pill. My nurses are so sweet - Rachel is from Nigeria and reminds me of Tosin, my former employee. I have a whole tub full of drinks and a huge bag of sour candy, so I'm ready to rock. The nuclear medicine tech, Tom, has been with me for both Thyrogen injections so he's a welcome familiar face.
The gentleman who walked me up from admitting, Tony, told me he had a message for me. He took my hands and told me that Jesus knows that I love Him but wants me to know He loves me more. That love comes at a price, said Tony - you have to trust Him - and Jesus knows that's hard for me. Tony was very sweet and I appreciate that he reached out to me like that. Divinely inspired or not, it was right on target.
My feet are cold and I'd sell a kidney for a cheeseburger right now.
More after the pill . . .
(The ellipses are for Ed, who loves a good ellipsis above all other punctuation . . .)
It's 9:30 and I'm snuggled in my lovely hospital gown. I have managed not to moon anyone yet. I've been down to nuclear medicine for a consultation with the radiologist (Dr. Gregory Weaver) and now I'm back upstairs waiting for my pill. My nurses are so sweet - Rachel is from Nigeria and reminds me of Tosin, my former employee. I have a whole tub full of drinks and a huge bag of sour candy, so I'm ready to rock. The nuclear medicine tech, Tom, has been with me for both Thyrogen injections so he's a welcome familiar face.
The gentleman who walked me up from admitting, Tony, told me he had a message for me. He took my hands and told me that Jesus knows that I love Him but wants me to know He loves me more. That love comes at a price, said Tony - you have to trust Him - and Jesus knows that's hard for me. Tony was very sweet and I appreciate that he reached out to me like that. Divinely inspired or not, it was right on target.
My feet are cold and I'd sell a kidney for a cheeseburger right now.
More after the pill . . .
(The ellipses are for Ed, who loves a good ellipsis above all other punctuation . . .)
Admit it!
Coming to you live from the admitting waiting room at Baptist. There's a lovely gentleman who looks like a red-haired Santa Claus who's telling his life story to a couple who's enthralled. ("i finally quit drinkin' when it darned near killed me.")
I'm sitting here looking like Johnny Cash's daughter (all black all the time), listening to Kid Rock and Cee-lo Green. I feel much better than I thought I would today; I've struggled with some kind of respiratory crud all week and I seem to be a little better. I am obsessed with taking an iPhone picture of the iodine pill and hope I'm not thwarted.
Just got checked in at admitting. "You don't owe anything, hon" is something very nice to hear. I also learned that I shouldn't worry about my Christmas shopping as I can get gift cards at Kroger (plus double gas points). I love the friendly staff here - I've been in this hospital six times and have never encountered an unprofessional or unpleasant person.
I'm going to shut up until I have something radioactive to report. Back to Cee-Lo.
I'm sitting here looking like Johnny Cash's daughter (all black all the time), listening to Kid Rock and Cee-lo Green. I feel much better than I thought I would today; I've struggled with some kind of respiratory crud all week and I seem to be a little better. I am obsessed with taking an iPhone picture of the iodine pill and hope I'm not thwarted.
Just got checked in at admitting. "You don't owe anything, hon" is something very nice to hear. I also learned that I shouldn't worry about my Christmas shopping as I can get gift cards at Kroger (plus double gas points). I love the friendly staff here - I've been in this hospital six times and have never encountered an unprofessional or unpleasant person.
I'm going to shut up until I have something radioactive to report. Back to Cee-Lo.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Welcome!
In an effort to entertain myself, I'm going to write about my experiences having radioactive iodine treatment on Wednesday. It may be gross at times and I will NOT edit myself for age-appropriate language, so if either your stomach or ears are sensitive, just check Facebook for briefer updates.
The day I found out I might have thyroid cancer, September 19, I promised myself that I would have fun with the process. Luckily, we've had mostly good news through the whole adventure so it's been easy to keep myself positive.
The day I found out I might have thyroid cancer, September 19, I promised myself that I would have fun with the process. Luckily, we've had mostly good news through the whole adventure so it's been easy to keep myself positive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)