Yesterday I went for a PET scan. What I actually got was a five-hour tour of the Westcountry.
I'm rapidly finding that stress about my actual illness is pushed up by the complications of procedure and infrastructure. Following the lymph node results, I was scheduled yesterday afternoon for a PET scan at the mobile unit parked outside Taunton hospital. It needs a six-hour fast, so I started the day with an early breakfast and packing various stuff (water, food for after, warm pullover, etc).
And then it all kicked off with a phone call. They had problems with the air conditioning in the unit. If the air gets too warm, the PET scanner crashes. They were, however, waiting for an engineer. The choice was either to make another appointment, or to come in the hope that it’d be fixed by the time Irene and I got to Taunton. We went for the lattter, and were pretty pleased to get a follow-up call (as we waited for the train) that the air conditioner was back in operation. So we boarded the train.
And then ... a couple of stops along the local line, there was a delay. We're on a local one-track line to Exeter that has to wait for the down train in the other direction. There was five minutes to make the connection at Exeter, and it took about seven minutes for that down train to turn up. This was a swear-worthy seven minutes. But they made up time, and we ran across the station bridge to the next platform, where a kind guard held up the Taunton train for a moment to let us get on - stressed, but OK.
So, we got to Taunton, took a taxi to the hospital and mobile PET scan unit. All seemed OK, apart from some extra wait; the air conditioning was still a problem, and they were having trouble keeping the termperature down. Still, they came for me, and Irene went to the hospital cafe. They talked me through all the procedure, and I signed the consent form and settled down to wait for my radioactive injection.
There was a lot of movement, and opening and closing of doors and partitions. Then, after about 40 minutes, they told me the whole deal was off: because of the heat, the PET scanner had finally said "critical error” and shut itself down to sulk.
Oh, no! I hung around outside the unit, waiting for Irene and devouring my post-fast packed lunch. By then, I was quite ready to eat fruit off the bushes in the car park, because I hadn't brought enough. We eventually found each other, wandered back through Taunton (which looks quite a nice town), took the train home (that bit at least went smoothly) and wondered how we'd managed to get through the afternoon without killing each other.
The whole episode was nobody's fault, and the scan unit staff were great - but it made me realise how much stress can be thrown at you just from mechanical and scheduling failures. I’m so far thoroughly fit, but it got to me - imagine how unpleasant it would have been for someone actually ill from their cancer, or feeling low from chemotherapy or radiotherapy.
- James
