I left the house when it was still dark this morning. I never leave so early it is still dark these days. Felt a bit strange. But then I guess spending your morning having radioactive sugar put in you and then hanging out in a tube of lasers for an hour or so is not really normal either. My friend took me to the hospital. Having company makes these things so much easier to bear, and stopped me getting into a spiral of darkness in my head.
Things were delayed and so we chatted about lots of things. One of them is why having these scans is so traumatic. There are many reasons. But I find the fact I am stripped of my wedding rings and my underwear particularly tough. It's like for those couple of hours I'm not allowed to be me. My stomach is empty from fasting. And no matter how much make up I put on, it all seems to sink into my face through the stress of it. I emerge afterwards jaded and weak.
Whilst the rational part of the mind says that these scans are needed and good, the emotions of the process don't work like that. I don't want any of this. And whilst dressed in a hospital gown (although these days I get rather insistent that I can keep my clothes on as they have no metal on,) I am placed into a confined space while lasers take images of my insides, looking for the nasties.
I was trying hard today to think that whilst I was "there," I didn't have to actually "be there." Thanks Charlie Cruz. It works to a point. But not entirely.
But I was grateful for my friend and her words. It would have been a lot harder without her there. And when I got to my doorstep this is what I found:

And inside there were a couple of these:

Having been on sugar fast since New Year, with maybe a couple of blips, cup cake tasted so good.
How blessed I am to have the support and love that is around me.