I have an alarm set for 6:30am but I wake up at 4:30 and that is the end of sleep for me. I lie in bed listening to the birdsong outside and try not to think too much about the day ahead. I’ve had so many scans now, I know what to expect so I’m not too worried about the procedure itself. I’m more concerned with the outcome. I think Susannah may be a little distracted though as we get to the car before she realises she still has her slippers on.

It’s an easy trip to the hospital as there is hardly any traffic. Spital rides on the dash for moral support. I check in with Radiology reception and don’t have to wait very long before being collected by the nurse. Susannah she says she will be waiting for me with a large flat white when I come back out. Happily, the nurse is able to put a line in my right forearm without any difficulty. I drink the requisite two glasses of water and am progressed to the CT waiting area. 

On the bed in the scanning room I am laid flat with my knees slightly raised. The bed slides smoothly into the hole of the donut shaped scanner. The computerised voice tells me to take a deep breath in and hold it and the scan begins. I focus on the digital timer. It’s a mere 7 seconds before the computer tells me to breathe normally – that’s nothing for me with my Radiotherapy breath holding ability. This process is repeated, the internal parts of the scanner whirl round and round a few times, and then the bed is retracted from the machine. The contrast dye is injected into my line and I immediately feel heat in my mouth and a change in taste followed by the hot flush of the dye moving through my body. They tell you beforehand that the heat of the dye will make you feel like you are peeing and they are right. Even though I’ve experienced this many times before I still find it weird. The scans are repeated. The technician then says that they need to check with the doctor to see if any additional scans are required. I wait. Just one more, they say and I fear that they may have spotted something concerning.

Once I am extracted from the machine I ask the technician the purpose of the extra scan. Without hesitating she responds that as it takes 5 minutes for the contrast dye to reach the liver the doctor wanted to make sure to get a scan once it had. Her answer seems plausible to me so I push away the feelings of panic that have started to arise. Nothing to do now but wait for the results. Again. 

Back at home I call the District Nurse Clinic to change my next outpatient appointment to have my port flushed. As my port was accessed yesterday with the Zometa Infusion I can wait 6-8 weeks to have it flushed again. I really hope that I’ll get my port removed soon, but just in case I book in with the DN for mid January. 

Susannah and I were planning on taking a week to go camping after radiation finishes. Due to appointments and other commitments our week had become 4 days and then yesterday my MRI appointment was booked right in the middle of that. I consider going camping to be a necessary reward for finishing this current treatment phase, so I push the MRI out a couple of days to the 20th. I refuse to miss out on fun stuff.

In the evening Uncle J takes me to Radiation Round unlucky 13. This session feels different to the others. My new boob muscle across my chest and around my back has tightened up again. I have pain in my sternum during treatment. I also feel a slight burning sensation on the skin over the treated area which turns hot and red almost immediately afterwards. It starts to itch constantly and is very uncomfortable. 

Susannah has a work dinner tonight so I’m home alone. Nights where only one of us is home we call a Bachelorette night – a time when you can eat or drink whatever you like and do whatever you like. It’s usually fun to go solo and be a bit decadent, but tonight I find I just feel itchy and scratchy and completely alone. I have too much time with me, myself and my thoughts and I don’t want to go there.