I had my first bone scan today.
It’s embarassing to admit that I’ve been a nurse for so long and know so little about this stuff. I was thinking a bone scan would be sort of like a CT, with me lying on a narrow surfboard that shuffled in and out of a donut thingy. Nope.
I lay on the surfboard and a huge thingy shaped something like a manhole cover, only thicker, caroomed its way toward my face and stopped about three inches from my nose. Even though everything was open except for the enormous disc, I had to close my eyes to stave off the claustrophobia and keep myself from scootching out from under and running screaming from the room. The technician chirped, “just hold still, we’ll scan your head first and then you’ll be out from under, I’m just going to go finish my lunch.” I’m not kidding. She left me alone there.
With my eyes tightly screwed shut, I kept expecting to feel the surfboard slowly surfing back and forth, like a CT. I felt nothing. I counted the songs on the radio, prayed, wondered what the tech was having for lunch, waited, worried. Was the machine broken? Was I holding torturously still all this time for nothing? Afraid to open my eyes or move, I was surprised when the tech said, “just a couple more angles and we’ll be finished.”
I opened my eyes. The manhole cover thingy was moving. Not the surfboard. I had lain there suffering and claustrophobic for who knows how long while the machine was scanning my ankles and feet.
There’s something to be learned from this.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6