I can assure you of one thing; I wasn’t there for the ultrasound. But that didn’t stop the tech from asking three or four different times if I was pregnant; could be pregnant and didn’t know it; or if I was trying to get pregnant. Each time I answered, “NO!” Finally satisfied with my answer, she started the IV and injected the radioactive tracer which would take about three hours to work its way through my soft tissue and into my bones. I was free to wander about the hospital campus until 1:00 p.m.

The only warning I received before leaving the procedure room was to careful when I went to the bathroom. “We don’t want any of the radioactive isotope splashing up on you or you clothes.”

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The weird look on my face conveyed my thoughts – I AM NOT A SPLASHER! But I was quickly distracted by the little card she handed me. It read, in part: Nuclear Medicine. 300 BONE WHOLE BODY. Suggested time of detection: 3 Days.

“This is in case I need to board a plane. They’ll know why you’re radioactive.”


Today’s bone scan would reveal if the pain I’d been experiencing for the last month was in my bones or coming from somewhere else. When you’ve survived cancer, you don’t want it to recur in your bones. You don’t want it to recur anywhere.

In a day or so, I will have the results. I’m not worried. But in light of my sister’s recent diagnosis, my doctor and I thought it was prudent to have it checked out. What’s the old adage? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Here’s hoping there is nothing to cure.

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