This morning we had our umpteenth CAT scan. Same drill – drink berry-flavor barium yuckiness, half a bottle two hours before, the remaining one hour before; sit forever in the cold waiting room; small IV in the arm; ugly, thin gown; lay very still in the machine; weird dye high with the IV push; and done. We did get through it this time without throwing up, which is definitely a plus. The CAT machine is pretty happy about that, too.
Now we wait for the results. Waiting is tough. Will this Friday’s Spa visit be uneventful with only Avastin? Or will Friday, the rest of the weekend and next week be shot to hell because we get to start chemo again? And if we do, will this chemo work? These questions and more race in circles through my head. I’ll spend the rest of the day (or longer) chasing away unpleasant thoughts and related emotions by immersing myself in my work. At least the company will benefit from all this anxious energy.