Foreign Spot

When examining my CT scan results, my pulmonologist noticed a dark spot in my lung.  This spot was unrecognizable, the size of a coin (1”). To get a better look at this spot I was sent for another CT scan. When the scan results were available prof Sewlall examined this spot with ten other specialists.  None of them could identify this spot.  None of them felt that it was cancerous or of any danger, but none were prepared to totally rule it out as dangerous.  Not very comforting.  Prof then decided that a specimen should be extracted from my lung in order to examine it.  This involves sticking a needle into my lung and sucking out a speciment of this substance for testing.

This procedure was scheduled for the next day. I was once again wheeled downstairs to the radiology department, which I’d visited a few times by now.  This procedure is done on the same table as where I had my CT scans done before. Before going into the room, I was briefed by the sister on what was to happen.  She introduced herself as sister Charlotte.  I kept wanting to call her sis Charlotte, after a dear family friend who we used to call by that name. I was reminded of the multiple times I’d flown on an airplane. I’ve always been quite amused when they’d do the safety demonstration and say, “in the unlikely event of…”.  This time it wasn’t as amusing when she said “it is unlikely that it would happen but…” The first was that air could seep into my lung. This is not something that I would have thought would be a problem.  It is air in my lungs after all.  The other is that my lung could collapse. “In both cases,” she says, “you are already in the hospital, so you will have help”. I can’t say that that made me feel any better.  I was then advised that I would receive a local anesthetic on my back. I would not receive any anesthetic where the needle would penetrate my lung as this would be dangerous. The needle would then be pushed between two ribs and into my lung. I would need to keep very still as there was very little room for error as the needle has millimeters to work in. I said a little prayer and just put my trust in God.

I was wheeled into the radiology room and asked to lay down on my stomach on the table. I was then instructed/requested to lay with my arms forward and crossed, and with my head on my arms to one side.  I was again reminded that I need to lay very still and even breathe “short shallow breaths”. I remember when I was in school.  This was before they set a law against corporal punishment. I remember how my classmates would laugh at me.  While others in my class would take a strike at a time and either rub their behinds or run around the classroom in between every strike, I would close my eyes, zone out, and take all strikes all at once.  There were times that it was even ten or twelve strikes.  Those were the days. Hahaha. Back to the point. I lay down, put my arms forward with my head on my arms, then closed my eyes and “zoned out”. I did not see anything that was being done, but the bed kept on being nudged forward or backward, in small increments. It felt like when you’re sitting on a plane and the kid in the seat behind you keeps kicking your seat.  The doctor communicated every step with me.  He told me “the needle is penetrating now”, and I felt the pressure against my skin.  I then felt what felt like someone sticking their finger between my ribs.  It was uncomfortable but not painful. Next, I waited in anticipation of the pain as it enters my lung. The next thing the sister says “just hold that position while we check if we have enough of a specimen”. Oh, that wasn’t as bad as I thought.  She then returned and said, “we want to get one or two more specimens, just to make sure we have enough”.  Again, I was not convinced and waited for the pain. The process started again, with the “nudge, nudge”, the pressure, and then, “that should do it” she says.

As I am wheeled out the sister says to me that I seem to have a high pain threshold.  I was just grateful that it was not as bad as I thought before.  They then took me across the passage to the X-ray room to check my lung.  All good, no damage to my lung. Back to my hotel room….I mean my hospital bed 😊 As they wheel me off to my room, the technician stops the porter and shows me a folder with two pieces of glass on it.  I asked her what I was looking at, to my subsequent embarrassment, as I had no idea what I was looking at.  To me it was just two pairs of glass with dirt in the middle. It was the two specimens that they had drawn, on their way to be examined.

On the day that I was discharged prof Sewlall confirmed that the samples were benign and nothing to worry about.  “For all we know it’s been there for the last thirty years”, to use his words.  Thank you, Lord!!