I’ve Had Enough Scans to Know How They Taste
The barium contrast
Arrives in a jug like detergent,
Thick as a milkshake
But sweet in a different way,
Fake coconut and
Chemical pineapple.
I close my eyes and try to think
Of the tropical paradise
That the label promises.
I gulp the first cup down
Like a frat boy on spring break
And try not to think about
The rest of the jug.
The saline hits
The back of my tongue
As if I’d just drank it.
But it came from a tube
In my arm
And it’s always a surprise
How quickly the taste rushes
From my elbow to my throat.
I close my eyes and try to think
Of the salty coastal air
That its flavor promises.
I want to stay still
Like the tech keeps asking me to,
But my arms and legs
Want to swim
Against a warm ocean tide.
I almost taste the coffee
I can’t stop for as I drive home.
The hospital website calls the scanner
“Donut-shaped”
And I now just want a donut and a coffee
To break my fast.
But the barium always cuts through
My stomach
So I’ll settle for water
And dry toast or saltines,
And close my eyes and try to think
About the butter on my fingers
From some lobster
That will sacrifice itself for me
For the lunch
On the beach
During the vacation
That I hope will happen.
I submitted this poem because I think there is great value in sharing our experiences. I was diagnosed with follicular lymphoma 16 years ago, and with skin cancer more recently. I have been fortunate to be able to share my experiences with many other cancer patients in all those years, and I’m always amazed at how often they say, “I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”
Even the difficult experiences that we share, like the emotional and physical discomfort that comes with a scan, can be a little easier when we know someone else has been through them, too. I share my story as often as I can, because sometimes if even just one other patient can relate to it, it was worth the time to tell it. I write a lot, and though I don’t often write poetry, sometimes it’s an easier way to distill feelings into just a few words. We all get scans, usually many scans, and I hope this poem, sharing my experiences before, during and after getting the scan, will be something that other patients will recognize.
This post was written and submitted by Robert McEachern. The article reflects the views of McEachern and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.
For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.
