I learnt a
new word: scanxiety. It stands for scan anxiety or the intense feelings of
anxiety, fear or worry cancer patients often have when it’s time for a scan.
I had heard
of people feeling this way before their regular “checks” and always thought to
myself that wouldn’t it be better just to get it done and know? No big deal. But now that I’ve been in that position, I’m
surprised the term wasn’t coined long before now because scanxiety is real.
Part of the
protocol when you’re diagnosed with breast cancer, especially that has spread
to the lymph nodes, is to undergo a bone scan and CT scan to check if there’s
any evidence of the disease anywhere else in your body. So in the course of
about a week, I underwent these tests, mixed in amongst the surgeon and
oncologist appointments. Yeah, I was a regular at the hospital by now.
First up: a
bone scan. This is where they infuse (via
an IV in my hand) some radioactive dye that will “light up” any areas of
concern when they scan me. So they literally carry out a metal canister with
the radioactive dye in it. I was expecting some sort of glowing or superpowers
but honestly, I didn’t notice a thing.
You have to
wait a couple of hours between the dye infusion and the actual scan. And then
you lie there on the bed while the machine moves and scans and gets up close
and personal the whole length of your body. The whole time you’re wondering
what they’re seeing on the screen and if anything’s shown up. Of course, the
technicians can’t tell you anything at this stage but it’s terrifying knowing
what potentially could be on that screen.
Then a CT
scan. Again, I had to lie on a bed while it scanned me. I also had an IV in for
this one because they do need to put a dye in at some stage of the scan.
Luckily they warned me that when they push the dye, you feel a warmth all over
and kind of like you wet yourself. All these foreign feelings and tests and
technicians . . . I started to feel kind of like a robot.
I will
admit defeat for the CT scan, the scanxiey got the better of me and I took a
Valium so I could try to remain somewhat calm. Because the whole time you’re
laying there (about an hour or so) you’re picturing the worst. You’re imagining
what they’re seeing. You’re scared that they’re whispering “oh that poor woman” when they see your
scan.
Then comes
the wait. It was several days before I received word of the results of these
scans and those several days were like being in limbo. Trying to do the
day-to-day stuff and push the thoughts out of my head. I experienced many
moments of anxiety (hot flush, rapid breathing and heartbeat, feeling of panic)
while I was waiting for what felt like . . . my fate.
And then
relief. Both scans came back clear. There was no evidence of any of the disease
anywhere else in my body. I think I messaged everyone on my phone when I heard
the news and my husband, parents, family and I took a big sigh of relief. We
now had the whole picture. We knew what we were dealing with. I got this.
My future
holds a lot more checks, scans and tests that’s for sure. I’m armed with
strategies to help me deal with scanxiety
but just in case, I think I’ll have some Valium at the ready. And I’m not
ashamed to admit it.