I had my PET scan this morning, which is about all I can say about that. It was only mildly uncomfortable to stay motionless on a table for about twenty minutes while the machine took pictures of the inside of my torso. I have no idea what it showed, nor when I’ll learn what it showed. Perhaps I’ll know when I meet with the oncologist on Friday afternoon, the doctor to whom my primary care physician referred me for a needle biopsy.
While I was at the clinic undergoing the PET scan, the oncologist’s office called in the hope of having me visit with her during her time in the Village today. I would have been happy to, except that I was having a PET scan less than fifty yards from her main office. My cardiologist’s nurse called while I was being PETted, returning my call, to say she does not yet know the results of my cardiac stress test, but that she’ll call when she does. I’m surprised it takes so long.
I’m still calm about the entire process so far and I don’t see any signs of that abating. As the song says, “Que será, será.”
On the way home from my PET scan today, I stopped at recycled clothing stores, where I spent a total of $9 on two pairs of slacks and one windbreaker jacket with the old Hot Springs Village logo embroidered on it. The slacks are a bit snug, which is one of many reasons I’m planning to starve myself a bit in the coming weeks and months. I’ve allowed myself to grow into the corpulent old man I told myself I would not permit. I’ll fix that bastard!
This evening, we are meeting friends for dinner at a restaurant on the far side of the Village. Saturday evening we’re going to 501 Prime for dinner, an early celebration. Sunday is my 65th birthday. “Que será, será.”