What’s the most unnerving thing you can hear when you’re lying in your back, with a cannula in your arm, waiting for a CT scan? I suppose “Oops” would be right up there, or possibly, “Can someone fetch a bucket?”. In my case it was being told that the dye they were about to inject me with might give me a warm sensation, I might feel my face flush – “Oh, and you might also get a feeling around your middle that you’ve just peed your pants.” Wait, what?
This was the last of the scans I’m having (for now) to help the doctors determine the cause of my severe anaemia. Luckily they have a CT scanner here in Wick. The machine is a large, white ring, like a miniature Stargate, and the bed you lie on is propelled, none too gently, two or three times in and out, like someone poking a hole in the middle of a bagel, while a recorded voice booms at you “Breathe in!”, “Hold your breath!”, and “Breathe normally!”. It’s a bit intense, as though they’d got a US Army drill sergeant to do the recording, and I kept expecting it to add, “You horrible little worm”.
It’s loud, too. The scanner makes a noise like a 747 revving its engines, and it’s just as well I was reminded to breathe: my atavistic instincts kicked in, and I found myself holding my breath and trying to lie perfectly still, like my caveman ancestors playing dead when cornered by, say, a particularly grumpy woolly mammoth. At least the scanning part was over quickly, in less than five minutes, and the only bit that really hurt was when they removed the tape holding the cannula in place, together with what felt like most of my arm hair.
The nurse said it would take seven to ten days for the results to come through, so I don’t expect them to be ready for when I go back to see the consultant in Inverness this week. Meanwhile all I can do is wait. It’s a curious time, an in-between time, as though I’m in a casino at the roulette table, and I’ve bet everything on 37 red: the wheel is spinning, the ball is in play, bouncing between numbers, and who knows where it will land? Still, I do have one piece of good news: as I could confirm after some surreptitious fumbling, once the dye entered my bloodstream, despite a warm sensation, reader, I did not pee my pants. Right now, that feels like a victory…
Small victories always to treasure. Here’s hoping 🤞 that happy days are to follow. You certainly deserve them all.
Thanks Kevin, I appreciate it. Though I can’t help wondering, in the game of life, if it’s snakes and ladders, why are the ladders so small and the snakes so big – and why are there so many of them…?
Definitely a victory!
I remember feeling very uneasy about lying there stareing up at the monster machine arching over me. It was just a bit too much science fiction feeling and I have far too much imagination!
Hi Lois, I was just disappointed when it was over and I opened my eyes to discover I still in the same dimension/ part of the galaxy!
At least they warned you – first time I had a CT scan they didn’t (but it was 2am – so I didn’t complain). At least it only feels like you’ve wet yourself…
MRI scans are far noisier but at least there’s no dye, just incessant beeps and worrying clunks.
Fingers crossed for the next appointment.
Good progress on the sleeve – I found knitting really helps with stress management.
Hi Gay, yes, the nurses in Wick were brilliant – they told me what was happening at every stage and checked I was ok. And it was over very quickly once it started (though holding my arms above my head like I was diving into water felt very weird lying in my back!).
Yes, I’d be lost without the knitting. You’re never bored with a gansey to knit!
They do sound peremptory. I had one scan a few years ago. I’m probably due for another.
That’s significant progress on the sleeve. It makes the shoulders look wider.
Hi Tamar, it was a glimpse of the future when robots take over. It definitely lacked the human touch!
This gansey looks a bit strange because the pattern pulls it in, making the body look very long and very thin. Once it’s blocked that should go away and it will hopefully look normal.