I'm not trying to frighten anyone about having an MRI. Most people are quite comfortable and unfazed by the whole experience. Betty M., a friend of mine, has had two in the last year, both related to her breast cancer treatment. Her report to me was, "I took a pill (a simple sedative) and was totally relaxed throughout the entire experience." Well, that just goes to show that she is not a topsy-turvy, can't-hold-still, fidgety-twitcher like me. (CHECK OUT THE UPDATE ON OUR BETTY AT THE END OF THIS MESSAGE)
I'm the type of person who goes to bed lying on my right side - for a few minutes. Then it is on to the stomach for a short period of time. Okay, next step is on my left side, Ahhh . . . for approximately five or ten minutes. then (you guessed it!) on my back. Very good, I can see you are paying attention. This pattern repeats, well, repeatedly, until I fall asleep. The point I'm trying to make is that when doing the MRI experience, you are required to lie perfectly still. I cannot stress the "perfectly still" part enough. Oy vey! If you move, you might have to start all over again.
I entered into the MRI (which I had back on November 15th but it still makes me shudder to think of it), imagining that this was going to be a piece of cake. After all, it didn't involve any scalpel, sutures, ivs - the usual stuff that kinda means something is going to hurt,. No problemo, right? WRONG!!! My first indication of a problem was when I found out that I had to lie (let's say it all together) "perfectly still", for approximately one hour! In Oliphant time, we would reference this to about 8 1/2 hours. Okay, I prepared to gut this out. My mantra was "I can do this I can do this I can do this."
I laid face down on the table of the machine. Betty had cheerfully informed me that there was an opening in the table fitted with a faceplate with a small television screen positioned below, so I could watch a TV show to help pass the time. Great. It was almost 10 o'clock and my morning rerun of Gilmore Girls was about to start. The show ran for one hour, so I could be entertained and know about when my time was up. When I put my face on the plate opening, it felt a little hard. The tech padded my forehead with a washcloth. Ahh. My arms were positioned on either side of my torso, and soon it was a go.
I had been told that the noise that the machine makes sounds like a jackhammer,. Well, I've heard my husband running a jackhammer, and by golly, they were right! It also periodically sounded like someone pounding on an oil drum with a hammer. Either way, it was loud. Unfortunately, as I get older, loud noises tend to make me nauseous. Very nauseous. Now we're in for some fun, right?
I am so proud for staying (again, everybody) PERFECTLY STILL. But that was definitely one of the hardest challenges I have ever had to endure, bar none. It didn't help that in the first few minutes, I had three itches develop on my face. Moving was forbidden, so there was to be no scratching and I had to put up with a bit of "itch" torture. Sigh. After awhile, I began to notice that my face was pressing into the metal faceplate so hard that my brow bones and cheekbones were beginning to ache horribly. Next, the machine was making the air quite warm, hot in fact. Did I mention that being overheated makes me nauseous, too? Puke time.
At this point, I wasn't even watching Lorelei and Rory Gilmore. I had to keep my eyes shut because the sight of any kind of movement made me sick to my stomach. I began to pray that the end was near (of the MRI, silly).
Then, just as I thought I couldn't take another minute of this, the tech announced into my earphones that I only had 6 1/2 minutes left. The race was on! Was Janene going to make it to the home stretch without vomiting in the MRI chamber? Could she hold it together for a measly 6 1/2 minutes or was she going to upchuck on the last lap, and have to repeat this all over again? Was a do-over inevitable? I think not!
I began to count off the minutes, second by second. I started to pray to my sweet Jesus that I could endure the last little bit without being sick. After all I had been through, I certainly didn't want to ruin the test. I was seriously praying up until the very last second.
Then . . . the techs opened the chamber.
I was sweaty, shaking, and pale. I didn't get sick, once I felt the cool air of the room, but it was a close toss-up (ewww - no pun intended).
After I told the techs that I had come very close to being sick and ruining the test, they happily informed me that maybe the next time it wouldn't be so bad.
NEXT TIME????? What tha . . ? Just call me M.I.A from now on.
UPDATE ON BETTY M.: I talked to Betty the other night. She had had an MRI (I believe on the 9th of Dec,?) to see what the outcome was for her since she had been fighting her breast cancer battle for the last year. She told me she had to have it repeated on the 12th, because the first time didn't go so well and it turned out to be a flop. Evidently when the iv was put in her arm to pump the dye through her system, it missed the vein, and she laid there for an hour in pain as the stuff just pumped under her skin. Her arm was huge with all that fluid. Fortunately after her second try, the news came back great!!! It sounds like she has a clean bill of health, and is planning a fabulous sun-filled vacation with her entire family. You go, girl! (I guess Betty just joined my M.I.A. Club, when it comes to MRIs).
If any of you are wondering why I am blatting away on Jenna's blog, it's because my girl is currently swamped with work, Alec, Christmas, and worrying about me. Also, there has been a lull in any news about my cancer, since I haven't had to see the doctor for awhile, and I am feeling super, so she is doing her thing, and I am keeping my mind busy tapping away on the computer. I still have all my hair, but it's a waiting game to see just when I start looking like a plucked chicken. My second round of chemo is tomorrow and I'm really not worried about it at all. If it goes as good as the first time, I will be one happy camper. I just hope I'm not too tired to cook the turkey and everything on Tuesday (Christmas Eve) for the family. We'll see how it goes.
GOD BLESS YOU ALL
I'm the type of person who goes to bed lying on my right side - for a few minutes. Then it is on to the stomach for a short period of time. Okay, next step is on my left side, Ahhh . . . for approximately five or ten minutes. then (you guessed it!) on my back. Very good, I can see you are paying attention. This pattern repeats, well, repeatedly, until I fall asleep. The point I'm trying to make is that when doing the MRI experience, you are required to lie perfectly still. I cannot stress the "perfectly still" part enough. Oy vey! If you move, you might have to start all over again.
I entered into the MRI (which I had back on November 15th but it still makes me shudder to think of it), imagining that this was going to be a piece of cake. After all, it didn't involve any scalpel, sutures, ivs - the usual stuff that kinda means something is going to hurt,. No problemo, right? WRONG!!! My first indication of a problem was when I found out that I had to lie (let's say it all together) "perfectly still", for approximately one hour! In Oliphant time, we would reference this to about 8 1/2 hours. Okay, I prepared to gut this out. My mantra was "I can do this I can do this I can do this."
I laid face down on the table of the machine. Betty had cheerfully informed me that there was an opening in the table fitted with a faceplate with a small television screen positioned below, so I could watch a TV show to help pass the time. Great. It was almost 10 o'clock and my morning rerun of Gilmore Girls was about to start. The show ran for one hour, so I could be entertained and know about when my time was up. When I put my face on the plate opening, it felt a little hard. The tech padded my forehead with a washcloth. Ahh. My arms were positioned on either side of my torso, and soon it was a go.
I had been told that the noise that the machine makes sounds like a jackhammer,. Well, I've heard my husband running a jackhammer, and by golly, they were right! It also periodically sounded like someone pounding on an oil drum with a hammer. Either way, it was loud. Unfortunately, as I get older, loud noises tend to make me nauseous. Very nauseous. Now we're in for some fun, right?
I am so proud for staying (again, everybody) PERFECTLY STILL. But that was definitely one of the hardest challenges I have ever had to endure, bar none. It didn't help that in the first few minutes, I had three itches develop on my face. Moving was forbidden, so there was to be no scratching and I had to put up with a bit of "itch" torture. Sigh. After awhile, I began to notice that my face was pressing into the metal faceplate so hard that my brow bones and cheekbones were beginning to ache horribly. Next, the machine was making the air quite warm, hot in fact. Did I mention that being overheated makes me nauseous, too? Puke time.
At this point, I wasn't even watching Lorelei and Rory Gilmore. I had to keep my eyes shut because the sight of any kind of movement made me sick to my stomach. I began to pray that the end was near (of the MRI, silly).
Then, just as I thought I couldn't take another minute of this, the tech announced into my earphones that I only had 6 1/2 minutes left. The race was on! Was Janene going to make it to the home stretch without vomiting in the MRI chamber? Could she hold it together for a measly 6 1/2 minutes or was she going to upchuck on the last lap, and have to repeat this all over again? Was a do-over inevitable? I think not!
I began to count off the minutes, second by second. I started to pray to my sweet Jesus that I could endure the last little bit without being sick. After all I had been through, I certainly didn't want to ruin the test. I was seriously praying up until the very last second.
Then . . . the techs opened the chamber.
I was sweaty, shaking, and pale. I didn't get sick, once I felt the cool air of the room, but it was a close toss-up (ewww - no pun intended).
After I told the techs that I had come very close to being sick and ruining the test, they happily informed me that maybe the next time it wouldn't be so bad.
NEXT TIME????? What tha . . ? Just call me M.I.A from now on.
UPDATE ON BETTY M.: I talked to Betty the other night. She had had an MRI (I believe on the 9th of Dec,?) to see what the outcome was for her since she had been fighting her breast cancer battle for the last year. She told me she had to have it repeated on the 12th, because the first time didn't go so well and it turned out to be a flop. Evidently when the iv was put in her arm to pump the dye through her system, it missed the vein, and she laid there for an hour in pain as the stuff just pumped under her skin. Her arm was huge with all that fluid. Fortunately after her second try, the news came back great!!! It sounds like she has a clean bill of health, and is planning a fabulous sun-filled vacation with her entire family. You go, girl! (I guess Betty just joined my M.I.A. Club, when it comes to MRIs).
If any of you are wondering why I am blatting away on Jenna's blog, it's because my girl is currently swamped with work, Alec, Christmas, and worrying about me. Also, there has been a lull in any news about my cancer, since I haven't had to see the doctor for awhile, and I am feeling super, so she is doing her thing, and I am keeping my mind busy tapping away on the computer. I still have all my hair, but it's a waiting game to see just when I start looking like a plucked chicken. My second round of chemo is tomorrow and I'm really not worried about it at all. If it goes as good as the first time, I will be one happy camper. I just hope I'm not too tired to cook the turkey and everything on Tuesday (Christmas Eve) for the family. We'll see how it goes.
GOD BLESS YOU ALL
RSS Feed
