CT Scan

Usually my scans happen earlier in the day, but I have no control over when these tests get scheduled. Sometimes they don't even tell me when they are coming up! 4:30 pm. I wonder if I will have time to complete the scan and get back to campus in time for my evening class at 6 pm. Especially if they are running behind. Well, there is no help for it.

Traffic isn't bad getting there - everyone is headed the opposite direction, away from the medical facility. Science Park is easier to get to, and parking is not a long term assignment either. I pull up in one of three empty spaces right in front of the door to the Imaging Center. I smile as I fill out the usual form. The receptionist now hands me a "courtesy copy" of my previous visit so I can just copy stuff. No need to look anything up.

I watch the news for a few minutes before they call my name, and a sunny tech named Gloria leads me back directly to the scan room. No reason for me to be seated first in a side room. No IV, no gloppy stuff to swallow, no radiation. This is just a straight, simple no contrast scan. I suspect they took me in ahead of a few others because this will be so quick.

Gloria glances at me, asks if I am wearing anything metallic, and nods when I say no. I am an old hand at this game. I learned the rules ages ago. She places me on the machine's tongue head first. This is different. I usually go in feet first. Zip, zip, whirrr, whirr, in, out, again, farther in, out, done. There's the exit. Bye.

It goes so quickly that I have plenty of time to stop at Panera's for dinner before I head to class. Nice. But something about the scan has scrambled my head. First task in class is to write out our memorized Scripture. I knew it cold going into that donut machine, but now I am struggling to catch the right words to put down. I have the sequence right, I can see the darn word on the printed page from which I memorized it. I know the first two letters and the intent of the word, but I cannot for the life of me get that word into my conscious mind and out onto the paper.

I select the closest approximation I can come up with, knowing full well it is not right. Sigh. I haven't had one bit of chemobrain that I have be aware of since the treatment. But this. This is definite chemobrain. I am frustrated. I wonder if chemobrain has been evident elsewhere in my work. Darn. I will have to run a diagnostic on everything I have touched recently. Rats.

I turn in my paper and look for the two words I could not recall. Yes, there they are. Close to what I put down, but not exact. Well, what's a few demerit points among friends? At least I retained the meaning if not the perfection.

Before when I had chemobrain, it was evident and part of the general dysfunctional fog of ineptitude I was experiencing. It has been 8 months since my last chemo. Odd time for it to hit. I wonder if its part of this sort of detox I seem to be experiencing? Along with the leg neuropathy and exhaustion. Could be, I suppose.

At least its not bad, and I am over the treatment, so hopefully this will pass quickly without further incident. We shall see.