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Scanxiety (REVISED)

The exam room had a soothing vibe with its soft pastel colors, but the harsh fluorescent lights completely ruined that chill atmosphere. Sunlight poured in through the big window, but it was no match for the glaring overhead lights. I lay on the crinkly paper draped over the exam table, feeling the thin blue gown do little to keep me warm.

Man, this is freezing. I pulled the gown tighter around me, trying in vain to keep some warmth.

Dr. Giacherio walked in, his sharp electric blue eyes and neatly styled mahogany hair giving him a serious look. He wiped a spot on my thigh with an antiseptic pad, the smell taking me back to childhood falls and scraped knees. I watched him get the biopsy needle ready, the metal shining under the bright lights.

Wow, that needle looks massive! Is all of that going into my leg? This is going to be so painful. My heart was racing, thumping in my chest like a drum in the silent room. I felt a wave of sickness and shut my eyes tightly.

"Are you ready?" Dr. Giacherio asked, his tone calm and reassuring.

I nodded, unable to speak. Pops squeezed my hand, his familiar grip providing a bit of comfort in the clinical setting.

"Just a little pinch," Dr. Giacherio said, and then the needle was in.

I shut my eyes tight, trying to ignore the odd tugging feeling. It wasn’t really painful, more like a heavy pressure that felt like an invasion of my space. I concentrated on Pops' hand holding mine, using his presence to keep me steady.

Almost there. Almost there. I kept repeating that in my mind, hoping this would be over soon.

At last, it was finished. Dr. Giacherio pressed on the spot, the sensation oddly soothing after the needle. He then put a small bandage over the tiny cut.

"All done," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I’ll send this to the lab right away."

He grabbed the container with the sample and stepped out, his quick footsteps resonating in the corridor. Kerrie, the nurse, turned to me with a friendly grin.

"Alright, Sloane," she said, her tone calming. "Now we’re going to prepare you for the PET scan."

A PET scan? What’s that? I had heard the term before, but I wasn’t really sure what it involved. A wave of nervousness washed over me.

She cleaned my arm with a cool, alcohol-soaked pad and then placed a small plastic tube into my vein. I flinched without meaning to.

"This is called a cannula," she said, her voice steady and comforting. "We’ll use it to inject the radioactive tracer."

Radioactive? I glanced at the syringe with suspicion. What are they putting in me?

She attached a syringe to the cannula, and the liquid inside was a weird, glowing green. It looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. Kerrie gently pressed the plunger, and I felt a slight chill as the tracer flowed into my bloodstream.

"Hmm, interesting," I said quietly, watching the green liquid vanish into my arm. "It feels kind of cold."

Kerrie laughed softly. "That’s perfectly normal. It’ll warm up soon."

After she took out the syringe and secured the cannula with a small bandage, Kerrie gave me more instructions.

"You’ll need to lie still for about an hour," she said. "This will let the tracer spread through your body and into your tissues."

"An hour?" I thought to myself, feeling frustrated. Lying here for another hour? This is going to be torture. I shifted a bit on the table, trying to get comfortable.

Pops gave my hand another reassuring squeeze. "Just think," he said in a low voice, "an hour of peace and quiet. You can use that time to plan your ice cream order."

I managed a faint smile. "True. Maybe I’ll go for a double scoop of mint chocolate chip today..."

Even the thought of ice cream couldn't completely ease the growing restlessness that was settling in. Time seemed to crawl by, each minute dragging on painfully. The crinkling paper beneath me made every little movement feel amplified. The buzzing fluorescent lights overhead created a constant hum that was really starting to get on my nerves. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, focusing on how my chest rose and fell, but my thoughts kept scattering like leaves in the wind.

I couldn't handle it any longer. I shut my eyes tight, attempting to block out the rising frustration. I needed to move. I needed to do something.

Just when I thought I might leap off the table and sprint around the room, the door swung open, shattering the silence. Kerrie entered, pushing a wheelchair. A wave of relief washed over me, so strong it felt almost like a rush.

"Ready to roll?" she asked, her smile bright and cheerful.

I nodded enthusiastically, sitting up. My legs felt stiff and shaky from lying still for so long.

"I didn't think they'd let you bring a wheelchair," I said, my voice a little rough. "I figured I'd have to walk."

"Well, we want to be safe," Kerrie replied as she helped me into the wheelchair. "Plus, it's quite a trek to Radiology."

She turned to Pops. "You're welcome to come along," she said. "There's a coffee shop and a waiting area where you can hang out until Sloane's done."

Pops nodded. "Thanks, Kerrie. I think I'll grab a coffee." He looked at me. "Want anything?"

"No, I'm good," I replied. "But save me a spot."

Kerrie wheeled me out of the exam room and down a long, sterile corridor. The wheels hummed against the linoleum, a rhythmic counterpoint to the steady beeping of nearby machines. A wave of apprehension washed over me as we approached the Radiology department. I tried to focus on the ice cream waiting for me at the end of this ordeal, but a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach.

The Radiology department was a hive of activity, with patients coming and going, machines whirring and clicking, and technicians bustling about. The air buzzed with a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. A faint metallic scent hung in the air, mingling with the ever-present antiseptic smell that permeated the entire hospital.

A young guy with a name tag that read “Logan” greeted us with a warm smile. He had a shaved head, bright blue eyes, and a cheeky grin that suggested he had a fun side. His nose was a bit crooked, probably from a past injury, and his lips were full and animated.

“This is Sloane,” Kerrie introduced. “She’s here for a PET scan.”

“Follow me, Sloane,” Logan said, his voice surprisingly soothing. He had a kind face and a gentle demeanor that put me slightly at ease. He guided us into a spacious room dominated by a huge machine resembling a doughnut. It looked more like something from a sci-fi film than a medical device. A wave of claustrophobia hit me, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising anxiety.

Logan helped me onto the slim couch that extended from the machine, making sure my head was comfortably placed in the headrest. “Just relax,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

He stepped out of the room, vanishing behind a window that led to a control area filled with flashing lights and intricate monitors. I could see him through the glass, his figure highlighted by the glow of the screens.

A moment later, soft music filled the air, a gentle tune that I vaguely recognized from a movie. Logan’s voice came through the intercom. “I thought this might help cover up the noise from the machine,” he said. “Let me know if you want something different.”

I smiled in appreciation. The music was a welcome distraction from the constant buzz and whir of the machine as the couch slowly moved back and forth through the scanner. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the melody, trying to ignore the odd sensations as the machine captured images of my insides. Please, let everything be okay, I silently hoped, holding onto the belief that this wouldn’t be the end of everything.

When the scan finally finished, Logan came back and lowered the couch, helping me sit up. “All done,” he said with a big smile. “You did awesome!”

“Thanks,” I said quietly, still a bit unsteady as Logan assisted me back into the wheelchair.

Kerrie waved at Logan with a friendly smile. “Catch you later, Logan!” Then she turned to me, her expression warm and comforting. “How are you holding up, Sloane?” she asked, her hand lightly resting on my arm.

“I’m okay,” I replied, managing a faint smile. “Just feeling a bit strange.”

“That’s totally normal,” she reassured me. “The tracer will fade in a few hours. For now, let’s go find Pops and head back upstairs.”

We spotted Pops in the waiting area, absorbed in a magazine. He looked up as we got closer, concern etched on his face.

“How did it go?” he asked, his gaze searching mine.

“It was fine,” I shrugged. “A bit dull, to be honest.”

Pops smiled, relief evident on his face. “Well, dull is a good sign in this situation.”

Kerrie wheeled me back to the exam room, where she skillfully removed the cannula from my arm. “All done!” she declared, placing a small cotton ball over the tiny puncture. “You’re free to go. The doctor will call you with the biopsy and PET scan results.”

“So we just wait now?” I asked, feeling another wave of anxiety wash over me.

“That’s the tough part,” Kerrie said softly. “But try not to stress too much. In the meantime, drink lots of fluids to help clear the tracer from your system. And take it easy.”

“Okay,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Pops lifted me off the exam table, wrapping his arm around my waist to keep me steady as I swayed slightly. “Alright, Sloane,” he said softly, a sparkle in his eyes. “Let’s go track down that ice cream shop you’ve been daydreaming about.”

Pops checked his phone, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "There's this place called 'Scoops of Joy' just a few blocks away," he said. "It seems like a good spot."

"Scoops of Joy?" I repeated, a grin spreading across my face. "That sounds amazing!"

The ice cream shop was a charming little place tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. Its pastel exterior, decorated with fun murals of ice cream cones and happy sundaes, was a bright change from the clinical atmosphere of the hospital. A vibrant red awning covered the entrance, providing shade from the afternoon sun. The delightful smell of baking waffle cones drifted from the open door, mixing with the fresh scent of flowers from the neighboring shop.

A few wrought iron tables and chairs were set up under the awning, creating a cozy outdoor area. Colorful flower boxes filled with petunias and geraniums lined the patio, adding a splash of nature to the city scene.

"Let’s sit outside," I proposed, excited to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.

Pops nodded, and we chose a table close to the entrance. The wrought iron chairs turned out to be surprisingly comfy, and the awning offered a nice break from the heat.

A cheerful waitress with a bright pink streak in her hair came over, her smile as sweet as the desserts she served. We ordered – I went for a double scoop of mint chocolate chip, while Pops opted for a classic vanilla cone. I watched as she skillfully scooped the ice cream, the metal scoop clinking against the container as she piled the creamy scoops high.

As we enjoyed our ice cream, the outside world seemed to drift away. The soft buzz of conversations, the cheerful jingle of the shop door, and the occasional laughter of kids created a calming background for our afternoon. I observed people walking by, their faces relaxed and happy, a sharp contrast to the worried looks I had become used to seeing inside the hospital.

For the first time that day, I experienced a sense of normalcy, reminding me that life goes on beyond tests, scans, and all the uncertainty of diagnoses. The ice cream tasted amazing, the company was reassuring, and the sun felt great on my skin. In that moment, everything seemed just fine. A wave of calmness washed over me, pushing away the anxiety that had been bothering me all day. Maybe everything would turn out okay. Perhaps this was just a small bump in the road, a temporary pause in the journey of life. As I enjoyed the last scoop of my mint chocolate chip ice cream, a feeling of hope started to grow inside me.

A peaceful quiet enveloped us, broken only by the soft clinking of spoons against glass bowls and the distant chatter from other tables. I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the sun's warmth on my skin and the refreshing, minty taste of the ice cream as it melted in my mouth.

Pops, always attentive, decided to speak up. "What’s on your mind, Sloane?" he asked, his green eyes sparkling with concern.

I shrugged, my fingers tracing the droplets on my glass. "Just thinking about...everything," I replied softly. "The biopsy, the scan, the waiting..."

Pops reached over, placing his hand over mine in a comforting way. "I know it’s a lot to handle," he said gently. "But don’t worry too much, Sloane. We’ll tackle whatever comes our way, together."

His words, filled with quiet strength and unwavering support, eased my anxious heart. I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. "Thanks, Pops," I whispered, squeezing his hand.

He smiled, the worry lines around his eyes easing. "Anytime, sunshine. How about we finish this ice cream and head home? We can rent a movie and have a cozy night in."

The thought was instantly appealing. A relaxing evening with Pops, snuggled up on the couch with a good movie and maybe some popcorn, felt like the perfect way to escape the day's worries.

"Sounds great," I replied, a genuine smile finally breaking through.

We finished our ice cream, the last few bites a comforting reminder of simple joys amid uncertainty. As we walked back to the car, hand in hand, the afternoon sun cast long shadows in front of us, symbolizing the unknown journey ahead. With each step, I felt a growing sense of confidence, knowing I wasn’t facing those shadows alone.

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