Let me start off by saying three things:
I am grateful to have access to high quality health care and for the kindness of the people that work in the medical field.
I don't have my results yet, but will know more at my appointment later this month.
I should have asked way more questions before the ordeal began.
A few weeks ago, I got a call from a lovely woman saying that based on the recommendation of Dr. T#$%#*, she was calling to schedule my MRI. I was confused. I hadn’t seen a doctor recently. So, I asked her to repeat herself. “Dr. T$#*&% told us that we need to get you in for an MRI. What time on November 2nd works best for you?”
Still confused – but too embarrassed to ask her to say the doctor’s name again, I just said 2pm, and put it on my calendar. I figured I could call later and ask more questions.
Spoiler alert: I never remembered to call and ask more questions.
Fast forward to the day before the MRI. They called to confirm my appointment, and then, I started to ask some questions. Which doctor was it that referred me for this? What was getting MRI’d? Is that the right term even? Why did I need this?
As it turned out, the doctor that did my mammogram/ultrasound/biopsy last year recommended that I get this scan done this year to set a baseline and get a closer look. As soon as someone says anything regarding breast health, I jump in line and do what they tell me to do, so I confirmed my appointment.
On the day of the main event, I drove to the appointment, and while I was driving, I was trying to remember if I had ever had an MRI before. Truth be told, I couldn’t really remember what was involved.
Spoiler alert: it was VERY different than I imagined.
After going through the paperwork to get signed in, they took me back to the dressing room, where I saw a sign that cautioned against any metal (keys, jewelry, etc.) going into the MRI room. I stopped in my tracks because I had just gotten Invisalign braces the day before and part of that was a few metal attachments. The nurse assured me that I would be alright and gave me a little container to put all of my other metal in to lock in my locker.
While I was in the hallway locking away my belongings, she popped her head out in the hallway. “Sugar, how much do you weigh?” UM, MA’AM. That is NOT something we talk about in the hallway! With a quick look around to make sure no one was listening, I whispered it to her. She cheerfully thanked me and headed back into the MRI room.
Now, I had more questions – why do they need to know how much I weigh? As it turns out, this was going to be an MRI done with contrast. Cool, cool, cool. What does that mean, exactly? Great question – and I soon found out when they put an IV in my arm where they would be shooting the dye that would help them get a clearer picture.
Then, they took me into the MRI room and the real fun began. When I walked in, I was literally staring down the barrel of the machine and a flurry of activity began.
The two lovely medical professionals started peppering me with information. “We will have you in there for about 25 minutes…” (WHAT? That feels like a very long time!) “It’s going to be loud, so here’s some ear protection for you….” (I got ear plugs AND noise cancelling headphones.) “You’ll be face down with your arms above your head…” (HOLD UP! Face down? For 25 minutes? I am not sure this is a good idea!) “Once we start, we need to keep going or we will have to start again…” (Like all the way over again?)
They helped me to climb up and get into position. My instructions were: “Open your robe, kneel here, aim to land with your hip bones on this support, your face in the cradle, one breast in each hole and then, put your arms above your head.” Sure enough, there was a face cradle like those they use when you get a massage and a spot for each of my breasts. My job was to swan dive/belly flop in such a way that I landed in the right position.
So, I did just that – and then, the lovely ladies started adjusting me. As I lay face down (with giant headphones on), they moved me around and positioned my parts the way they needed them to be, and then, asked if I wanted a blanket. It was kind of cool in the room, so I yelled “yes please!” and they covered me up. (This would turn out to be an error of judgement on my part.) Then, they gave me what felt like a stress ball to hold onto and explained in a very loud voice that it was my panic button.
Record scratch: why would I need a panic button?
So, I yelled, “WHY DO I NEED A PANIC BUTTON?”
They yelled back, “SOME PEOPLE GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC. YOU READY?”
I yelled, “I GUESS!”
With that, they exited the room and pushed their magic buttons to make the machine start to move. I slid back into the tube and realized quickly why some people get claustrophobic.
Between me, the robe, and the blanket, I was in there pretty tightly. I considered hitting the panic button but didn’t want to chicken out before we even officially started.
Then, the noise began. Clanking, buzzing, clicking, banging. With all of our medical advances, how can THIS be the best machine we have for this? Why does it make so much noise? What do those noises even mean?
I don’t know what was louder: the noises of the machine or the noises in my head.
I very rarely slow down to be alone with my thoughts for 5 minutes, much less 25 minutes – but here I was, with nothing to distract me and nowhere to go. I decided to try to pray and meditate, even with all of the noise. I started with the Serenity Prayer, the 3rd Step prayer, the 7Th Step prayer, the Lord’s Prayer and the St. Francis Prayer.
As it turns out, those don’t very long to run through.
So, I needed to get creative. As the machine clicked and clacked, I started to pray specifically for each person I could think of in my life. I started with my family and named each of them (thank God, I have a big family) – then, I moved on to the other groups of people in my life: friends, coworkers, neighbors, people from church. It was kind of like playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon – as I thought of each person, I would let my brain move naturally to the next person they reminded me of, until I ran out of connections. Then, I would start over with a new person in that group.
This was helpful to pass the time and keep me calm, but I was still very aware of being snugly tucked into the MRI machine – and as time passed, I started getting hot. I tried to blow cool air down my exposed front, but it was no use. I was hot because of the several layers on my back.
Then, my arms started to go numb. I didn’t want to drop my panic button, so I was trying to keep them very still. However, I also didn’t want to lose all feeling and be unable to use the panic button if I needed to. So, I started to slowly wiggle my fingers and move the panic button between my hands. I am not sure if it helped, but it gave me something to focus on.
I don’t know how much time passed, but after a while, I heard a voice come over the loudspeaker in the room. It sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher. I was afraid they were going to scold me for moving my hands.
Them: “Wah wah wah wah wah. Wah wah wah wah wah.”
Me, yelling: “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU JUST SAID. I HAVE HEADPHONES ON.”
Them: “Wah wah wah wah wah. Wah wah wah wah wah.”
Me: “I AM SO SORRY, BUT PLEASE REMEMBER, I HAVE EARPLUGS IN AND HEADPHONES ON. I CAN’T TELL WHAT YOU JUST SAID. AM I SUPPOSED TO DO SOMETHING NOW? OR STOP DOING SOMETHING? I AM SORRY I AM MOVING MY ARMS BUT THEY ARE ALSEEP.”
Them, yelling over the speaker: “LAST ONE.”
Me, yelling back: “GOT IT. THANK GOD!”
I couldn’t hear them, but in my head, they were replying with “bless your heart.”
One of them must have entered the room, but since I couldn’t hear anything, I was unaware. Like an IV ninja, she shot the contrast stuff in to the IV into my numb arm and scurried out of the room. The only reason I knew something had happened was that I got very warm all over – but before I could ask a question, the machine started banging and clanging for another few long minutes.
When it finally got quiet again, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started squeezing that panic button like my life depended on it – because it felt like it did. I WANTED OUT.
Me, yelling: “CAN I COME OUT NOW? I REALLY NEED TO BE DONE.”
Them: “We’re coming.”
They slid me out and sat me up, and laughed when they saw how sweaty I was, joking that I didn’t need the blanket after all. I told them that my arms were numb and that I couldn’t move – they assured me that it was normal but that I had made it!
Me: “I did it? I am all done?”
Them: “Yes, sweetheart. You did great. You are all done.”
If I could have moved my arms, I would have hugged them both.
You were a real trooper. I'm really proud of you : )