I Am Not a Sardine!

I'm extremely grateful for modern medicine and therapies which help me beat (not completely, but good enough) my cancers.

But one thing I have yet to develop an appreciation for is MRIs.

I almost, ALMOST totally freaked out Monday morning.

It was time for another MRI.

I am claustrophobic, but I never ask to be sedated.

Why?

Because I'm a sadist and I immensely enjoy physically and emotionally torturing myself.

Not really.

Actually, I've always grown up believing that sometimes you have to tough things out. Not everything is going to be made super easy in life at the snap of your fingers or at the snap of a pill bottle opening up. Sometimes we have to endure difficult things.

This MRI was proving to be one of those "things."

They had to do two MRIs, one to my chest and one to my pelvis area. Makes for one mother of a LONG MRI.

I knew it was going to be bad for a couple of reasons.

One: They always offer headphones to protect your ears from the incredibly loud and obnoxious machine noises and to offer you a distraction I guess. It's nice that they ask you which FM radio station you would like to listen to. I asked for a rock station and they put it on a jazz station. Jazz? Might as well kill me now.

Two: I asked them to use the vein in the nook of my arm when it was time to inject the contrast dye. That's usually the vein EVERYBODY uses. She's my old faithful. I can always depend on her. Sometimes the veins in my hands "explode." Apparently, chemo destroys your veins and makes it very hard to insert an IV. (I found out during several outpatient procedures for internal radiation that my veins were shot! The OR nurses had to use my port.) Anyhoo, these MRI techs refused to even try my nook and said they would HAVE to use a vein in my hand. Gulp. And it hurt. A lot. That wasn't very nice.

By the way a power port is a small device inserted into the body to act as spigot to your veins. They inserted one into my chest when I got my boob chopped off. They use the power port for chemo treatments. You just hook the IV needle into the port "spigot" and it's ready to release chemicals all through my quirky veins! I still use it once a month to receive a bone strengthening treatment. Maybe one day we'll take it out, but for now it stays in.

I always ask the MRI techs if they can use my port, the answer is always no. (They are portcists! They discriminate against ports! Haters!) I then point out my "nook" vein and there's never been a problem using it before... until today.

Now I've had dozens of MRIs in the last two years. I don't know why this time became so physically and emotionally torturous for me.

All I know is that it did.

More than once they had to remind to keep my breathing calm.

Yeah lady?

You try keeping it calm, when you're squashed like sardine inside a metal tube.

And then for the life of me I don't know why and I will never be able to explain why I did this next thing.

I opened my eyes.

In. The. Tube.

Huge, huge mistake.

"Mrs. Q please relax and keep your breathing calm."

I tell you, I had it out for myself. I always keep my eyes closed during the entire procedure. I know I have to or...I'll freak out! So why, oh why, did I open my eyes this time? Maybe it was self-loathing from my grandiose self-pity day the other day. All I know is my subconscious was dictating some very bad vibes to my conscious.

And my conscious received every bad signal and then some.

Oh, and did I mention that it gets very hot inside the tube? What a lovely thing for me who already runs about ten extra degrees hot anyways. Yes, the sweat was just pouring down my face and my back. I think if they had placed a bucket underneath me, I would have filled it easily.

Loverly.

I can't tell you how glad I was when it was finally over. I did pat myself on the back for having endured it. It was tough.

Then I got home to find this phone message waiting for me.

"Mrs. Q? There was a miscommunication and we did not finish the scan. We need about fifteen more minutes of scanning."

What the scan?

Now let me backpedal. Since I was getting two different areas MRI-ed they had to move things around, so they slid me out a couple of times (much to my relief). I was surprised when the girl told me I could get up and go. I specifically asked, "Oh really? I thought I had one more time in the tube?"

"No Mrs. Q. You're all done."

"Okay, great!"

I weaved my way out of the maze of offices and rooms filled with familiar and unfamiliar machinery and was only too happy to leave.

Now I have to go back tomorrow to finish what we started.

One more squish and then we'll be done.

Until next week when I go for a PET scan!

Wheeeeeee!




B.S. Quirkyloon WAS emotionally harmed and her shoulder went numb from keeping her arms over her head for the almost two hours of MRI-ing. It sucks to be me.