radioactive

O Best Beloveds,

Today was a much better day. Val’s aches have diminished and seem to be on their way out; she’s much cheerier and more contrary (a sign of normal Val health).

Today was the bone scan, just to cover all possible test bases. Apparently the PET scan (which Val’s already had) has already told us all we expect to find out, but the doctor wanted to be utterly thorough, so off to Nuclear Medicine we returned. Cynthia ferried us to the appointments: one this morning to irradiate Val and one this afternoon to scan her fluorescing bones. In the fashion of a treasure hunt, we peered about for the little signs directing us to Elevator 10 and connected the dots to the Nuclear Medicine department in the basement. (In our distraction we glimpsed quite a few odd signs – one for eggs, another for the “regional stimulation department” – but realized on the way back they were actually “regional simulation” – whatever that is – and ECGs.)

I forgot to bring my camera to the bone scan appointment – what was I thinking? – but did my best with the little cell camera for your viewing pleasure. That’s Val wrapped up like a burrito in warm blankets, with her toes rubber-banded together, chuckling at the technician’s jokes and about to enter the scan machine. And on the right you can enjoy an unusual portrait of her head and shoulders.

On Friday we are flying to Billings for our niece’s wedding, and Val’s oncology nurse had advised that she pick up a doctor’s note to take along to the airport. This was my favorite part of the whole thing. A doctor’s note! What would it say? “Valerie is radioactive. Please excuse her from paying attention to the safety demonstration.” It turns out that the radioactive dye with which she was injected has a half-life of 6 hours, so it should be well out of her system by Friday when we fly. But just in case, the note explains that she has a darn good reason for setting off any especially sensitive radiation detectors the airport might employ. And in fact, the Nuclear Medicine technician got out a little radiation detector and demonstrated that the closer she got to Val, the more the little machine clicked. Her Geigers stood up and were counted.

And as for me (and for those who track the plot details), I’m happy to report that the dentist told me (while I was marveling at the painted cherry blossoms silhouetted against the faux skylight in the ceiling) that I have great, cavity-free teeth and I should keep up the good work.