Episode 2: Scan Anxiety

In two days, I’ll have my 5th PET scan since initially being diagnosed in 2021. The scan itself is relatively easy (albeit I hate not being able to eat). The tricky part of this game is purely mental. For me, it starts right about now (2 to 3 days prior). A kind of dread sets in. Remember, the cartoons, where the dark cloud would appear over the main character’s head? That’s me. However, I try my best not to let my anxiety interfere with my daily life.

I tell myself that this scan is a scheduled nap. As a mom, I can always appreciate some alone time and a quick snooze. I try to color my thoughts away on the way to Birmingham (yes, I am 40 with a coloring book, but it is a good distraction). I also like listening to Dateline, as Lester Holt tells the story of a murder. Surprise, surprise! It’s a family member. I comment to myself to humor myself, “What? I knew it was her or him!”

The reward after my scheduled nap is FOOD! I am much like my father. When our feet hit the floor, it’s time to eat, and for me, that also includes a Diet Coke (prefer out of the fridge in a can).

Then, there’s the wait for the oncologist to come in. The band Europe usually plays in my head- It’s the final countdown! I try to talk to my husband, who is by my side, but it’s hard. Mentally, I’m playing a tennis match in my head. What was the name of that commentator at the US Open? Mary Carillo? She’s commenting on my match. “Ashley has no symptoms, lost no weight, and is still active,” Mary tells John McEnroe. John adds, “That’s right, Mary. She shows no visible signs. We will have to wait and see what the oncologist says. You know, Mary, I’d smash a few more racquets if I had cancer.” Mary to John, “Indeed, John, indeed.” I try to silence Mary and John, but they are pretty persistent in their commentary, and no one wants to piss off John McEnroe.

After he comes in and explains the scan, I find a way to take it all in and prepare for questions that my family may ask.

On the way home, I’m mentally exhausted and try to nap. I try to process what I’ve been told. During the 2-hour ride, I try to prepare to be a mom again when we pick up the kids. Some days, I have to take a day for myself to feel normal again, but I try my best to get up and go to work like normal. My husband can sense on those rides there and back that it’s hard for me to be normal, act normal. I know it’s hard on him as well. There’s not much control we have over the situation, which, as humans, is what we naturally desire: control. In reality, there is only perceived control. It’s not to say all scans have been bad. It’s a different game when you are playing in the 9th inning.

The cycle repeats in the coming months as we prepare for another scan.

So, as the clock chimes like in Vecna’s house, I will wait for another scan. I’ll busy myself with writing, playing in forts built by master builder Anderson Coplin, and watching movies with William Michael. I will try to be as normal as possible.

Scan anxiety is real, but it will not defeat me. What Mary and John may have forgotten is that I, too, played tennis back in the day. I wasn’t too shabby. I will take what comes at me and hit it back. I will score the next point.

So obviously AI and so much younger than me, ha!