As I write this, I'm prepping for my PET CT scan with Grace. The nurse just injected radioactive something-or-other along with glucose into my body. Imagine Dragons' song springs to mind:
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive
:-)
The first slap
This photo was taken the day after I was diagnosed, and it is my first bitch slap at cancer. I'm the one with the icepack symbolically placed on my boob. My teammates changed our team's uniform to pink at the last minute, and I came off the soccer field that night with one goal and a whole lot of love. Several of these women are my close friends, but they are all warriors, and they all helped me set the tone for this fight.
I was going to suggest having Craig bring home a scintillation counter for a fun evening of listening to you buzz, but I suspect the radionuclides they use have half-lives measured in minutes. Oh, well. So far, all of the news seems to skew marginally positive, and your doctor sounds great -- I'll be lifting a glass of wine to you this evening!
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