Day Fifteen - Part 2: A Journey Through the PET Scan Process: Emotions and Reflections
January 22, 2025
When your doctor orders a PET scan, your mind naturally races. Questions pile up: What will the scan show? What will the process be like? If you’re anything like me, those questions are quickly joined by a tidal wave of emotions—fear, hope, anxiety, and even curiosity. This morning, I went through the process myself, and I want to share what it was like practically and emotionally.
Preparing for the Scan: A Mix of Anticipation and Anxiety
The preparation starts 24 hours before you walk into the imaging center. My instructions included a special diet, fasting for several hours, and avoiding strenuous activity the day before. These practical steps gave me something to focus on, but a storm of feelings brewed beneath the surface.
I felt nervous energy and dread, wondering what the scan might reveal. Would it confirm my worst fears or provide relief? Has the cancer spread? I found myself oscillating between reassuring myself with optimism and mentally bracing for bad news. The waiting itself was one of the hardest parts, as my mind filled the empty spaces with "what-ifs." I end up taking a deep breath and saying to myself: "I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer..."
At the Imaging Center: Calm on the Surface, Churning Inside
Walking into the imaging center felt surreal. The clinical environment—a mix of soft, reassuring voices and the hum of medical equipment—did little to quiet my nerves. I found myself trying to mask my emotions with small talk and polite smiles, even though my insides were a knot of tension.
The staff explained each step of the process. First, I was injected with a cold radioactive tracer. Sitting in the quiet room as it worked its way through my body, I couldn’t help but think about the strangeness of it all. The technology simultaneously comforted me and unsettled me with its required vulnerability. The solitude gave me too much time to think, and my mind darted between memories, plans, and present uncertainty.
Inside the Machine: Surrendering to the Process
When it was finally time for the scan, I lay down on the narrow table and tried to stay still. As the machine began working, I felt both exposed and oddly cocooned. The rhythmic sounds of the scanner filled the room, a constant reminder of the advanced science at work.
Lying there, I felt a profound sense of surrender. There was nothing more I could do in that moment but trust the process and the people caring for me. It was humbling and, in an odd way, freeing. I thought of my family—my wife Maria, my boys Ethan, Gabriel, and Noah—and how much I wanted to be there for them, no matter what this scan revealed.
The Emotional Aftermath: Waiting and Reflecting
After the scan, a new kind of waiting began. The physical part was over, but the emotional journey was far from complete. I felt drained yet strangely proud of myself for surviving it. At this moment, I reminded myself that the scan didn’t define me; it was just a tool to help guide the next steps. Still, the fear lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
Lessons Learned
Going through a PET scan is about more than just the medical procedure—it’s an emotional odyssey. I learned that feeling scared, hopeful, or even overwhelmed is okay. These emotions are a natural response to facing the unknown. I also realized the importance of support. Whether it’s a loved one holding your hand, a kind word from a technician, or a quiet prayer whispered in solitude, these moments of connection can be incredibly grounding.
If you’re facing a PET scan, know you’re not alone. It’s a simple diagnostic process, but it’s also a chance to find strength you didn’t know you had. Take it one step at a time, and remember: the scan is just a snapshot. The story of your life is so much bigger than this moment.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow is the day we will review all my diagnostic testing, pathology reports, and each drop of blood or tissue sample taken from me over the last two weeks.
Tomorrow, we get answers. I am excited, but terrified the same time. But at least now, we will have a playbook to challenge this cancer inside of me.
We go offensive tomorrow. I'm ready to captain this team. I am tired of waiting on the sidelines.
Tomorrow can't come soon enough.
Tomorrow, I meet my cancer head-on.
Be prepared cancer, because I am.