Fear and my PET Scan

It has been my experience that I am usually afraid of the unknown. For example, I needed a PET scan to determine if I really have a new tumor or not. The unknown is what is required of me for a PET scan and how will I handle it. Of course, I can read the procedure sheet provided by the docs to see what will be required of me, but that doesn’t really tell me much about the experience or how I will handle it. The PET scan procedure sheet says I must lay perfectly still on my back for multiple times up to 45 minutes each time. Because of my left side weakness, lying on my back for a long time sometimes makes my left arm hurt a lot. In fact, I have a small pain-reducing machine I wear every night to keep my left arm from hurting as I sleep. I do not have the pain-reducing machine for the PET scan, so I am concerned and a little afraid. I still have faith in Jesus to take care of me, but I am only a small fearful child. I do not feel I have failed my faith by being afraid and concerned. I reason I will use my faith to get through the PET scan; faith now becomes a resource to help me through the PET scan. I also plan to take a Bernie tape to listen to, another resource. I am now building a set of resources to help me; one of which is my faith that Jesus will take care of me.

As they enter the catheter in my arm, the tech explains I cannot use my Bernie tape. They want my brain as quiet as possible. OK, I can’t rely on a Bernie tape to help me; but no big deal because guess what? They can’t take away my real resource, my faith. Now they insert whatever into my blood and I am moved to a small room. Only a chair and four blank walls are in the room. I sit in the room in my wheelchair and wait and wait. Finally they come to get me and carry me to the scan room. Up on the scan table I go where I focus hard on lying still and not thinking; a prayer would invoke an emotion and be bad for the scan. I need no brain activity for a good scan picture. I make it through the first scan and now I am back in the little room waiting on a final scan.

Soon I am on another table lying still. After a bit, not sure how long, I begin to get restless, all this is getting old, however, no pain in my arm. I think of Jesus standing by me and patting me on my head, no words are said. I ask Jesus, “Can we go now?” Immediately the tech walks in the room and the whole thing is over.

What a wonderful experience a PET scan is. I simply know this to be true: I was shown again I am loved and blessed by Jesus, even though I know I am unworthy of either.

Someone asked me if I could go back to October 1, 2002, and be healthy where the only catch is I loose these experiences, I quickly answered no. I have lived spiritually more in the last six months, than the previous 50 years. Audrey may disagree with my choice, as all of this is getting tiring for her. However she is strong and loves me. It is not just me with a GBM. It is as if Audrey and I both have a GBM.