Day two arrived before I knew it and we headed back through the snow to Baylor. I sat in the waiting room for a little bit and then Beth just kind of waved me over to where she was and we started walking upstairs, rounding many corners and hallways before getting to our destination, the day surgery wing; the same wing I was in a couple months prior for my thyroidectomy.

On the way, she explained that the correct nurses in her department who administer these shots weren’t here yet, so she was going to have another nurse give me the injection. She was holding my needle and two vials of medicine directly in her hand on the way up, as casually as if it were pen and paper.

She also sped walked so I was trailing behind her, therefore not holding back on my frustrated and confused expressions as they came over me.

When we arrived at the room, only one nurse was there. Poor thing didn’t know what was coming to her. Beth approached her and boldly asked her to give me an injection. “Right now?”, The nurse asked. Followed by “I haven’t given that injection before, but I guess.”

So we went into this room and Beth bossed around the nurse on how to give me this strong, powerful, and consequential injection before my eyes. I watched as the nurse tried to extract the correct dose from the two vials. I watched her examine the syringe with Beth, as she was told it was not the correct dose. It took about five minutes before getting it correct. At one point, Beth had the audacity to look down at her phone for a minute.

Meanwhile I am watching from the side with a face that clearly showed how I was feeling. I mean, is this for real? Are they really using me as a guinea pig for this nurse to try a new skill on? I would gladly wait for an experienced nuclear medicine nurse instead. It’s not like it was a finger prick, it was a stimulant that would alter my bodily functions!

Then she asks if the injection goes in my arm. My confidence was absolutely shattered.

I almost asked if this was really happening and that they were absolutely positive they were giving me the right dose.

But instead I just lowered my pants and she gave me the shot.

As Beth was escorting me out, she made a joke about how I picked a crazy time to be getting this treatment. As if it were my decision. That this was an optional, everyday ordeal.

I almost rolled my eyes, but saved it until I left the building, furious at how I was treated and ready for the chance to leave a review about this.

Let me also address the contradictions of what Beth told me versus what my doctor told me.

Beth said to stay on my LID diet until the scans a week later. My doctor told me that three days after swallowing the dose was fine to resume normal eating. Beth told me I should still be taking my medication. My doctor told me to stop my thyroid medication three days before the radiation. Beth told me to isolate five days. My doctor told me three.

These were pretty big things to not be on the same page about.

My anxiety about this treatment could not have been larger! Simply because of this chaotic disoriented staff of nuclear medicine.

I sent my doctor a frazzled message through the portal telling her of the contradictions the nurses were telling me as well as my discomfort during today’s appointment.

God bless her, she called me that evening. She explained why there might be discrepancies between her instructions and theirs. She told me why she gave me the instructions that she did. She told me why the nurse might have been confused with the injection, but reassured me that there is no way she could have messed up that dose. She also, most importantly, told me that she would be giving the head of the department, Dr. Patel, a call to see what the plan was for me tomorrow with the radioactive pill taking. Additionally, if he was at the hospital, she would ask for him to be the one to administer it.

She is just incredible, really. I am so relieved to have her as my main endocrinologist. This conversation is what allowed me to have restful sleep that night.

~Continued in Part 4~