Thursday, April 03, 2008
CANCER JOURNAL
I have a 2-hour PET scan scheduled early this morning. After two hours of nothing to occupy my mind but my own thoughts, I'm usually ready to scream. Which is why I'm planning on a shopping trip immediately after as a nice little reward for getting through it. Rising up off the PET scan table gives a foretaste of what the first moment of eternal life in heaven must be like.
How do people get through PET scans without having the rosary to keep busy? Maybe one clue is the kleenex box. Apart from the blanket, the brown recliner, the brown walls in the small brown cubicle where one has to sit for an hour waiting for the contrast to permeate the cancer cells, there is nothing else in the room. I'd probably cry too if I couldn't pray, or else try bouncing off those brown walls just to break the monotony.
