…and I don’t mean to announce that I’m pregnant.
I’ve timed this post to appear at approximately the moment that I receive a rather large dose of radioactive iodine at the Jewish General Hospital. I have hatched a scheme so that I may be able to blog from inside my isolation room, but we will have to see how things go and how I feel (as with everything, there’s a long menu of side effects and I don’t know which ones I will get). In case that’s not possible, I just wanted to join the other two men of the household who have had radioactive iodine therapy in blog fame. You can see previous posts on the topic here and here.
I will be in isolation for approximately 48 hours, and then sent home. I’ve got old clothes, my own food (the hospital does provide food but they don’t do vegetarian low-iodine), and loads of entertainment and reading. And I bought the TV and brought the TV guide. Someone will go over me to make sure my levels are acceptable and Carrie will come pick me up on Friday.
After isolation, some residual radioactivity remains for a week or so though the levels are actually quite low and safeguards are largely symbolic. I am not supposed to cuddle small children or animals for long periods of time, at least not on my neck, and it would be mildly dangerous for a person to drink my urine or saliva. Happily, none of these things is a concern–except for the cat (but he’s more into laps than sleeping on my face).
So it all comes down to this. After a lifetime of opposition to nuclear arsenals and nuclear power, nuclear medicine is going to contribute to saving my life. I have no idea what that means.