What a Gallium Scan Looks likeThe next assignment was to get my Gallium scan, which I had never heard of. I thought maybe it would be similar to a CT scan, but I wasn't sure what to expect.
I went to the hospital and found my way to the room where I checked in. I sat in a chair, waiting to be called. It was a strange room, disorganized. Blue plastic chairs lined the wall; ultrasound machines and other equipment were randomly dispersed. There was a small black table that had a stack of magazines on it between two opposing rows of chairs. Slowly, people wandered in and out. One person was getting an ultrasound, but it didn't look like it was for a pregnancy. A man sat a chair away from me. He left suddenly, looking upset.
After awhile, a boy in a wheelchair was pushed out. He looked familiar, and I couldn't get over the way that he kept grinning at me, almost like he was crazy or something. He was nice-looking, and I kept thinking that we had gone to high school together(?). They never said his name, so I couldn't put a face to the name. He was soon wheeled back to a room in hospital. He just kept smiling at me. I smiled back and waved when he left. For some reason, I wanted to know what was wrong with him and I wanted to talk to him.
I was told I was next. The man who ran the lab took me into a room behind the chair that I had been sitting in. Today was only the beginning. Day one of the scan. Today, I would be injected with radioactive isotopes. I had to be careful not to let anyone use anything that was touched by any of my body fluids. I had to flush twice when I went to the restroom. I had to wash my own dishes, silverware and cups. I could not share drinks or food for four days. I must stay away from pregnant women, and let them know that they should not use the same toilet as me.
The man explaining this to me pulled a box out of a freezer. It was steel, very small, and locked. He unlocked the box after preparing me for an IV. It was just an injection, but it looked like he was going to put me on a drip. A small cylinder was in the box with a fluorescent green liquid; the cylinder was covered in frost. He took it out of the box with thickly gloved hands. There were radioactivity stickers all over the box and the freezer. Cold and uncomfortable fluid was injected to my arm. I could feel the cold running up my arm before it dissipated It was five drawn-out minutes of slow, careful injection.
I was to return at the same time for the next three days for the actual scan. Each scan would take around an hour. They had to wait until the fluid had gone through my entire body and take pictures every day until it was gone. I remember being puzzled, a little scared, but I was too tired to feel much of anything.
I went home and made plans to let work know about the fact that I would have to be off early for the rest of the week.
The next day, I went back. I was wearing my new pink short sleeved sweater and a pink and black miniskirt. I wasn't worried because I figured, like a CT scan, I would be asked to change my clothes and put on a gown for the scan. That was not the case, they asked me to just jump on the table. So, I did. I was newly apprehensive wearing that skirt, but the man that did the testing was so nice, and he put a warm blanket all the way up to my chest. I asked if I would need to remove my jewelry, he said no. He just told me to lay back and relax; the test would take about an hour.
I laid on a steel table that reminded me of an autopsy table without a drain. It was cold and uncomfortable. Overhead, was a giant piece of equipment shaped like a solid bell. The flat side hung over me. It moved three times, but I barely remember, because I fell asleep. Afterward, the tech woke me and told me he would see me the next day. He was very sweet; he always smiled at me.
I didn't see that boy in the wheelchair in the testing room again. But I went back every day, and had a nice nap before going home.
Next: The overall diagnosis and more testing.
I went to the hospital and found my way to the room where I checked in. I sat in a chair, waiting to be called. It was a strange room, disorganized. Blue plastic chairs lined the wall; ultrasound machines and other equipment were randomly dispersed. There was a small black table that had a stack of magazines on it between two opposing rows of chairs. Slowly, people wandered in and out. One person was getting an ultrasound, but it didn't look like it was for a pregnancy. A man sat a chair away from me. He left suddenly, looking upset.
After awhile, a boy in a wheelchair was pushed out. He looked familiar, and I couldn't get over the way that he kept grinning at me, almost like he was crazy or something. He was nice-looking, and I kept thinking that we had gone to high school together(?). They never said his name, so I couldn't put a face to the name. He was soon wheeled back to a room in hospital. He just kept smiling at me. I smiled back and waved when he left. For some reason, I wanted to know what was wrong with him and I wanted to talk to him.
I was told I was next. The man who ran the lab took me into a room behind the chair that I had been sitting in. Today was only the beginning. Day one of the scan. Today, I would be injected with radioactive isotopes. I had to be careful not to let anyone use anything that was touched by any of my body fluids. I had to flush twice when I went to the restroom. I had to wash my own dishes, silverware and cups. I could not share drinks or food for four days. I must stay away from pregnant women, and let them know that they should not use the same toilet as me.
The man explaining this to me pulled a box out of a freezer. It was steel, very small, and locked. He unlocked the box after preparing me for an IV. It was just an injection, but it looked like he was going to put me on a drip. A small cylinder was in the box with a fluorescent green liquid; the cylinder was covered in frost. He took it out of the box with thickly gloved hands. There were radioactivity stickers all over the box and the freezer. Cold and uncomfortable fluid was injected to my arm. I could feel the cold running up my arm before it dissipated It was five drawn-out minutes of slow, careful injection.
I was to return at the same time for the next three days for the actual scan. Each scan would take around an hour. They had to wait until the fluid had gone through my entire body and take pictures every day until it was gone. I remember being puzzled, a little scared, but I was too tired to feel much of anything.
I went home and made plans to let work know about the fact that I would have to be off early for the rest of the week.
The next day, I went back. I was wearing my new pink short sleeved sweater and a pink and black miniskirt. I wasn't worried because I figured, like a CT scan, I would be asked to change my clothes and put on a gown for the scan. That was not the case, they asked me to just jump on the table. So, I did. I was newly apprehensive wearing that skirt, but the man that did the testing was so nice, and he put a warm blanket all the way up to my chest. I asked if I would need to remove my jewelry, he said no. He just told me to lay back and relax; the test would take about an hour.
I laid on a steel table that reminded me of an autopsy table without a drain. It was cold and uncomfortable. Overhead, was a giant piece of equipment shaped like a solid bell. The flat side hung over me. It moved three times, but I barely remember, because I fell asleep. Afterward, the tech woke me and told me he would see me the next day. He was very sweet; he always smiled at me.
I didn't see that boy in the wheelchair in the testing room again. But I went back every day, and had a nice nap before going home.
Next: The overall diagnosis and more testing.
