Latest MRI

Monday night was the date of the aforementioned MRI. I have shifted all of my care to "THE" Ohio State University medical center. This is mostly because I have been much more pleased with their treatment and frankly, I think that the last group of doctors missed some things, not just with the brain tumor situation.

Finding the radiology department (or anything for that matter) on the OSU campus is an adventure. It took longer than I expected, but that was because E was driving and was trying to take a "shortcut." One thing I need always in my life is consistency or I get easily confused. We make it there with zero time to spare. I am checked in for the procedure at about 8:40 pm, scheduled to start at 9:15 pm and start popping my xanax which takes about 30 minutes to start working. The tech comes out and says that they want to take me back right away, and we tell them that we need time for the meds to work. She said, "It will be a few minutes... I mean, a little while."

We were waiting... and waiting... and waiting... and waiting.... I pop another half of a xanax, thinking they'll be in to get me any minute... another 20 minutes... another half. A full hour goes by before they take me back.

They get me all set up, ear plugs, a cute little scented eye cover, and they even have a picture of a Hawaii looking setting on the ceiling. They are trying to remind you to find your "happy place" while you are in this big coffin like tube, pretending not to go completely insane.

What they didn't count on are my incredibly small veins. This procedure requires an IV or some other method of injecting dye into your system. This allows them to see potentially active cancer cells. There should be none in my brain at this point because so much of the surrounding tissue was removed, but it's standard procedure. After 20 minutes of what can only be described as terror and torture at the same time, they gave up and just started the scans. They asked me if I was okay before they started... "you look a little pale," she says. Well, you just spent 20 minutes putting needles in my arm and trying to move them around into my veins because they are too small or you didn't poke me in the right spot. A 200 pound football player would be "a little pale" too. I'm a tough cookie, so I say I'm okay and tell them to get started.

By this time... the meds have worn off. They push me back into the tube and I start shaking. It's very difficult to describe the way that you feel and what happens when you have a scan. I'll do my best.

Imagine...
being in an enclosed space in which you aren't allowed to move at all and you couldn't even if you wanted to because there is no space
your head is completely locked into place with a cage surrounding your head
you spend anywhere from 2.5 - 20 minutes at a time being exposed to blips, grinding noises, knocking, and buzzing all around your head without a break
at some points, in addition to the noise, the machine is moving so your head is being thumped up and down on the table
(this feels like what I would imagine being in a dryer would feel like)
there is no one talking to you during this time and you have no idea if the person in the room outside is there, or taking a coffee break, or just looking through the glass a laughing at you in your misery

I was several times at the point where I wanted nothing more to escape. I could NOT stop shaking, which made me feel worse. Between one of the sections of the test I asked to be moved out so that I could get some air. Being moved out only meant sliding out of the tube and laying there without moving. You can't get up and move around because the images have to be in exactly the same location to be viewed properly.

After an hour of it all, they pulled me out and said that they wanted to do the injection. I sweetly but firmly told them that I had absolutely had it. I just couldn't do anymore and I knew with my veins as bad as they were, there was NO way that they were going to be able to do the injection.

We did not get home until midnight and I was absolutely exhausted. I'm not sure if the neurologist will send me back for another scan, I hope not. I enjoy the standard 12 months in between these joyful experiences.

However, this is a necessary evil for the rest of my life. Though my tumor was a slow growing one that usually is cured by surgery, it is still necessary to be vigilant in my follow up.

One positive note... I slept hard as a rock that night. ;)