Glowing Bones.

Regarding a comment to yesterday’s entry … does one offer cookies to a surly fifteen year old boy who desperately needs an attitude adjustment? Putting a makeshift butt can outside is tempting – I’ll have to see how cheaply I can do it without creating a flammable hazard.

I set my alarm clock for 4:45 last night before I went to bed because I had to be at the hospital by seven o’clock. Unfortunately, I wasn’t paying much attention, and ended up setting it for 4:45 pm. I had a restless night but avoided looking at the clock because that always seems to make matters worse. When I finally did look, it was quarter after five. Fortunately I’d already laid out all of today’s clothes, so all I had to do is down my meds, get dressed, and throw some food at the cats as I made my way to the door. I actually got to the hospital on time, thanks to the fact that traffic is still slow at that hour.

After working my way through registration, I made my way to nuclear medicine just as I was due at 8:00. That’s when I found out that all that happens at 8:00 is that I get an injection of radioactive dye, and then have to kill three hours before the scan is performed at 11:00. I had breakfast at the hospital cafe, and then went to the billing department. After discovering that my insurance company had reimbursed the hospital even though the statement they sent me showed that the claim was declined, I had two hours to kill. All I wanted was to curl up on one of the entrance lounge sofas and fall asleep, but I was afraid of oversleeping my 11:00 scan, so I read a book I’d brought with me and watched some truly insipid morning television shows.

The scan itself took less than half an hour. The radioactive dye they injected me with migrates preferentially to areas of active bone, so that any tumors or irregularities will show up as bright spots on the scan. They didn’t tell me much, but I could see the screen where the monitor was being displayed, and there was a large bright area on my right femur about mid-shaft. This happens to coincide with where I was kicked by a thoroughbred about five years ago. At the time they weren’t sure if there’d been any bone damage or not, but from the looks of the scan, I felt it was obvious there had been. Even though I tried to explain to the doctor overseeing the scan about the kick, he seemed unconvinced and I ended up having to get traditional X-rays of the site after the bone scan was completed. If they keep this up, I’m going to end up glowing in the dark.

I scheduled my chest CAT while I was there, but the earliest they could take me was May 30th. That’s going to throw Ms. Liver Coordinator into conniptions, but she’s just going to have to live with it. They can’t give me anything sooner, so that’s the way it is. I’m going to need someone to drive me to and from the hospital for this one, which will be a pain in the arse. I’m pretty sure The Socialist will be teaching summer session by then, and I hate to ask either of my sisters to miss work.

Onto the health of other creatures … one of the cats had thrown up rather spectacularly all over the kitchen yesterday, and the mess awaited me when I returned home after work on Tuesday. There were little white flecks in the mix, leading me to wonder if Cattitude hadn’t managed to find herself some cheese somewhere. I don’t think we have any cheese in the house at the moment, but it sure looked like Cattitude’s little “I love cheese so much I don’t care if even a sliver makes me sick” episodes. There’s no further sign of gastric distress from any of the critters, so at least whatever caused it was a once-and-done episode.

And now, I think I’ll try to grab a nap and catch up on the sleep I didn’t get last night.