Ah well, home again. The day has been conquered.

Basically, it went well.

I’ve noticed that when Zsolt accompanies me into any sort of consultation or treatment, he’s assigned a chair. This chair is always to the side. But the thing is, Zsolt is part of my treatment – when they talk to me they need to talk with him too.

So I’ve started asking him to sit beside me. For instance, today while I was laying on the bed about to receive an injection of radiation (I literally become radioactive) I asked whether my husband could come closer. The nurse had assigned him a seat in the corner of the room. She said no problem, and he came round by the bed. Because my arms were occupied he held my feet instead.

Quick tip: Anyone who gets nervous while receiving needles, I suggest you have a friend or loved one accompany you and rub your feet. What a great difference it made. Having that second physical sensation took my mind off the pinch.

That was stage one of the bone scan: get injection.

Stage two of the bone scan: wait.

Since we came on the bus, it wasn’t worthwhile to return home. Instead Zsolt and I struck out for the only green space available  – the cemetery.

I love cemeteries. They are a refuge from the busy, loud world. And while literally surrounding myself with death sounds morbid, it isn’t. Believe me, it isn’t. My father used to take me to old cemeteries and we would read the inscriptions. People display real sentiment on grave stones; love shines through a handful of words, so why be afraid? Anyhow, I love cemeteries. They are history and family and nature and art and love and culture.

We took a walk between the graves, and I sipped on my water (4 cups of water must be consumed within those two hours). Eventually we found a patch of grass that bordered a plot of land with large horses, so we spread out the blanket and laid back in the sunlight.   The horses scratched themselves on fence posts, and I watched the clouds drift by.

Too bad my bladder didn’t enjoy the scenery – it filled to the brim and I jumped from beside Zsolt, making a break for the nearest toilet.

Stage three of the bone scan: the bone scan.

This is easy. A breeze. Nothing to it.  Zsolt and I went into the scan room, he was assigned his usual ‘corner of the room’ chair and I had my scan. The plates come very close to the face, but if you close your eyes that isn’t a problem. The only demand is to stay very, very still.

Meanwhile, Zsolt was chatting with the nurse (tip: bringing a partner into the scan room means they can quiz the nurses while you are laying there unable to move. She told him our doctor has a very good reputation for breast cancer surgery, and has a particular interest in young people). And while Zsolt had his talk, I listened to “Think” sung by Aretha Franklin play over the radio and remembered that awesome scene from the Blues Brothers in the diner.   Fried chicken and soapy dishes, with awesome back-up singers snacking at the counter.  I love that movie.

And Bing! Scan’s ready. They kept us five extra minutes to confirm the quality, but everything was fine so off we went.

There you go – a full body bone scan in three stages.

Tomorrow comes the CT scan. I’m not sure what it involves (apart from X-rays), but so long as it doesn’t induce vomiting or black outs, it’s okay with me.