Kicking Breast Cancer's Butt

My low-carb diet ends in one minute.  The Husband reminded me at quarter to that I had 15 minutes left to eat.  I told him I didn’t want to eat anymore, I was so full of cheese, pepperoni, and nuts.  Now I’m hungry again, and I already brushed my teeth. Damn.

Now the 12 hour (really it’s more like 14-15 hours) fast begins, in preparation for my PET scan.  I dose up on whatever the tracer is – glucose, I guess, since I’ve been avoiding sugars all weekend – at the 12-hour mark, then wait another two hours before I can be scanned and get out of there.

I’ve been worried all afternoon and evening that I would forget myself and carb out, which would really suck so close to the finish line.  Bread, chocolate, red licorice (yes, I know it’s not real licorice, so what?  I’m hungry!)

All I can have between now and then until after the scan is water and medications.  Goody.  At least I get to keep my anti-anxiety pills.  Better offer one to The Husband.  Oh, wait, he’s driving.

Sorry honey, snarky-cranky-wife alert.

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