Today was my DEXA scan day. Prior to starting on Letrozole, my hormone therapy, I need to have my bone density assessed. Letrozole is one of group of drugs called Aromatase Inhibitors and these are known to suck the life out of bones causing Osteoporosis. Why they are not simply called Bone Suckers is a mystery. For every year I take these little blighters, I will lose between 1% and 3% of my bone density. Consequently assessing the state of my bones before starting is somewhat important.
My appointment was at 9am which is always something of a challenge. Rush hour traffic is never pleasant but allowing an hour for the thirty minute journey has previously been ample. Not today. Today the world was heading to the city. I blame the Tories. At least I did at first since their conference was the only reason I could give for the ludicrous levels of traffic. Though personally I would have expected the traffic to be heading in the opposite direction … Once we arrived at the hospital it became clear that the world was also heading here. I wondered if my MP had taken up my Twitter suggestion that she divert a few MPs to ask my hospital why they were not collecting and publishing the data they should be on Secondary Breast Cancer? It seemed not.
By this time, we were so late the Captain dropped me off before he went in search of a parking space. I shuffled off as fast as I was able to be greeted by out of order escalators giving me no option but to take the lift. I missed the first one, was bundled into the second one with five other people which more than filled the tiny space. The doors closed, we reached the first floor, the doors did not open. I will repeat that: the doors. Did. Not. Open. Being stuck in a lift is not my idea of fun. I was already breathless and shaky and this did nothing to help with that. I ended up sitting on the floor. My nightmare is being stuck in lift with an out of order emergency phone. Perhaps I can put that one to bed now as the emergency phone did work. The woman on the end of it was very reassuring. Apparently maintenance men were coming to rescue us. Being rescued would have been nice. We did not meet any rescuers because after fifteen minutes the doors spontaneously opened and we bolted. I say bolted: a lovely but tiny septuagenarian couple offered to haul me to my feet. I politely declined.
After all that excitement my scan was thoroughly dull in comparison. I lay on a metal bed and a space age scanner whirred, beeped and hovered over my nether regions. They said it was looking at my spine and hips. I will get the results next time I see The Doc. Something else to look forward too.