The sun wasn’t just bright on Friday morning, there was warmth in its rays, as it shone on my face like a comforting touch from a loved one. The beauty of the day wasn’t lost on me.
That is because Friday was scan day, and because of this, laughter was louder than usual, hugs from my boys stronger than normal, the beauty of the little things sparkled around me.
I had been falling out with myself about the Scan. Trying to let my rational brain win over my emotional brain in a private mental battle. I know concern should only raise its head on results day, but I couldn’t stop the disquiet from settling around me.
The radiologists had an air of nervousness around them too, because of my veins. I have terrible veins, it stresses my health professionals out, trying to put a cannula in. I tried to put them at ease, letting them know that it is fine to poke about a bit, that I was used to it, that everyone struggles with my veins. I pointed out the best places for them to try. I cracked my tried and tested joke about how I would have been a terrible drug addict, which always brings a polite laugh. They kept me warm by tucking a blanket around me, stroking my hand and smiling at me, telling me they wouldn’t be long, asking me if I came on my own, and would I be okay going home. Fussing over me, focused on my care, making me feel calm. They shouldn’t have doubted themselves. The cannula went in first time, I gave them huge congratulations on this, its so rare to get it first time.
My arms were gently placed above my head, and then the radiologists left the room as the CT scanner whirred to life and started to talk to me. Breath in, now breath normally, breathe in, now breath normally. Half way through the radiologist re-entered the room to add the iodine, administered through the cannula. As it started to flow, it warmed each part of my body as it passed through, till it reached my toes and disappeared. Then the machine stopped, it was all done.
You have to fast for four hours before a scan, so I had an almond croissant in my bag, as a treat to myself while I waited the 10 minutes it takes for them to check the scan had worked and remove the cannula. Then it was home time.
Now I wait, wait to hear from Mr J that all is clear 🤞🤞. The unknown settles over me, like a blanket, wrapping itself around me, but not offering any warmth or comfort; nor is it letting me shake it off.
I sing to myself ‘you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave’