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| Seidman Cancer Center Beachwood, Ohio |
In a little over an hour, Joyce and I will drive up to Seidman Cancer Center in Beachwood, where we will have kind of a long day.
At 11:15 I'm having a couple of blood tests--metabolic panel and PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen). The PSA should be a low number (my prostate gland is long gone--surgically removed in June 2005), so a larger number indicates activity of prostate cancer (which also produces the antigen), the cancer that has remained in my body now for fifteen years, despite surgery, immunotherapy, two different periods of radiation therapy, meds, etc. The disease has now metastasized into my bones (a favorite spot for it to go in prostate cancer patients), and my oncologist has been keeping a sharp eye on that.
About noon, I'll receive an injection of nuclear material that will be followed, a couple of hours later, by a nuclear bone scan--a full-body scan that takes about forty-five minutes (seems like forty-five years). The scan is scheduled for 3 p.m.
I won't know anything for a while--I'll meet with my new oncologist next week for the first time to review the findings. (My former oncologist recently moved out of the area.) So ... we'll see what he says about all of this.
I was actually scheduled for this bone scan somewhat earlier (a couple of months ago), but I was, to be honest, afraid to go up there while COVID-19 was arriving and spreading. So ... I postponed it. At the time, today seemed like a long time off ... isn't that always the way?
Meanwhile, what do we do between the injection and the scan? We used to go find a coffee shop and sit and eat and talk and work--but that option's not available, I guess. Fortunately, it's a nice day, so we'll probably go find somewhere to be outside--at least under a tree in the car!?
Anyway, I'll update this post a little later on ...
1:15 p.m.
Well, this has been a cock-up of unpleasant proportions! We got to Seidman in plenty of time, but as I was checking in, they told me my appointments were at the Main Campus—down in University Circle!
I have never had a scan there—never gone there for blood work. So I hadn’t even looked at the lab orders and appointment location—why bother? Wouldn't it be ever the same?
No.
So ... the Seidman folks in Beachwood called ahead to the Main Campus to tell them we were running a little late (hah!), and down we drove to University Circle. Traffic was light, and we actually got there in plenty of time.
Except ...
The line waiting at the blood lab was as long as the one formed by the animals heading into Noah’s Ark. I waited an hour—which made me a half-hour late for my injection (up another floor in the building). Would they be able to work me in? But ... the phlebotomist doing the draws was wonderful--hardly felt a thing. Thanked her. Then bolted (insofar as I can "bolt" these days) for the elevators, up to the next floor, into radiology, wondering all the time ...
Will they work me in?
They worked me in.
I got my nuclear shot (in the back of my hand! ouch!) about an hour ago (I’m now feeling very very Spider-Man-y), and Joyce and I are now by the lake outside the Cleveland Art Museum, looking at the geese and goslings, enjoying the fair weather. We're also doing some reading, some writing (I'm using my trusty iPad right now). I have to be back by 2:15 to get ready for the scan.
BTW: Seeing geese and their goslings always reminds me of when our son (b. 1972) was in middle school. When he was in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade, I drove him every day to Harmon School in Aurora, where I taught, and one of our “spring adventures” each year was to look for the goslings near Aurora-Hudson Rd. Who would see them first? Always an exciting moment—which says a bit about the, uh, range of excitement in my life.
Tuesday, 8:45 a.m.
Well ... a long day yesterday. We got home about 4:30--six hours of traveling and getting shots and scans and waiting.
You have to drink a lot of water before a bone scan, so I did (my bladder urging caution, caution, caution).
I got back to Seidman from the geese about 2:15, as per instructions, and Joyce drove back to look at the geese some more. About 2:30 the technician called me in, got me onto the tray (I guess that's what you call it) that would transport me in and out of the scanner.
It's a slow process, as I said. Can't move the whole time--though the technician did pause from time to time to adjust my head (for the slkull scans), to raise my arms above my head--glad I can still do that--to get clear pictures of my chest and abdomen.
The time goes slowly, but I usually reel off (silently!) some of the many poems I've memorized over the years--helps make the time accelerate a little.
I've had quite a few of these scans over the years (a dozen or so?), so there were no surprises, just the discomfort of the procedure--and, of course, the worry about what the scans will show.
About 3:30 I called Joyce back from Goose Land; she picked me up; and off we zoomed, back home, where we arrived in time to prepare dinner--the only food I'd had all day--not counting the homemade scone I ate while goose-and-gosling watching.
I've mentioned this before re: other Seidman visits--but there is nothing more humbling--I mean nothing--than sitting in a Seidman waiting room. All of humanity is there (race, age, gender)--all in various stages of suffering. Wheelchairs, walkers, gurneys. The courage--the hope--of people is astonishing.
Also, the staff there (from noted surgeons and physicians to those checking my vitals when I entered the facility) are as diverse as humanity can be. Don't believe in the value of immigration? Walk around a cancer center facility. Take a look--a long look. And be grateful.
And, finally, how could I survive without Joyce?
I couldn't.
Now the waiting ... perhaps even more odious than the testing and scanning ...
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| Seidman Cancer Center University Circle Cleveland, Ohio |
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