MRI 2012

After the cruel and unfaithful god smited/smote/whatever the past tense of the word ‘smite’ is XD with a brain tumour back in 2007, I’ve had to have an MRI every six months to check that the stupid brain tumour taking up precious brain space inside my head hadn’t suddenly hit a growth spurt or anything stupid like that. When I got the all-clear for my MRI in September 2010, the doctors said, “It’s great that your six-month scans have showed no regrowth; we’ll see you once a year, from here on.”

The one stressful thing I dislike about MRI scans is that a nurse must first insert a cannula into your arm, so that the MRI technician can inject your vein with dye towards the end of the MRI scan, which will then apparently light up your brain. Or something like that. XD

The reason why I hate this procedure so much is because I’ve got very fine veins, and it’s very hard for the nurses to get the needle in and successfully find a vein! Back when I was still living in the insane asylum (more commonly known to everyone as the Princess Alexandra Hospital XD), one blood lady would try two needles, have them both fail, then she’d get the other blood lady also doing the rounds with her to try. Two more needles later, they’d both give up and find a doctor to insert the damn thing in! Actually, near my release from the insane asylum back in 2008, I grew so panicked when I heard the blood ladies enter the ward that I took the current book that I was reading, fled to the nearest toilet, locked myself inside, and read for like forty-five minutes, until a nurse came and knocked on the door, curious that I may have fallen in! XD Suspiciously, I asked, “Have they gone yet?”

“Who?” the confused nurse asked.

“The blood ladies. I’m not coming back out until they’ve left.”

“Oh, they left ages ago. You really shouldn’t hide from them, you know, if they need to take your blood.”

“Well, I’ll come out now, now that you said they’ve left.” XD

My arms have been alternating whose turn it is for the needle-sticking, and this year, ‘twas the left. She was still feeling traumatised from 2010, though, because she had endured not five, but NINE needles! >< See, two different nurses both tried two needles, all to no avail. They then get a doctor. Mr. useless doctor tries THREE, but they all fail! In the end, he applies a shot of local anaesthetic (which STINGS like HELL, BTW! ><) and finally, finally, with the help of an ultrasound machine gets the cannula in with his NINTH needle! My poor left arm was so traumatised, she showed the doctor the huge bruise she’d developed along the elbow crease because of all those needles, and the good doctor promises to give her a miss with the acupuncture needles that particular week.

Last year, ‘twas my right arm’s turn to suffer the needles, and it took three attempts before the nurse found the vein.

Come this year, my poor left arm was wailing that she didn’t want an ouchy needle, but my right arm told her, “Shut up. I endured it last year, so it’s your turn this year.”

But then, miracle of miracles! The nurse managed to get the cannula in the VERY FIRST GO!

“Quick, tell me your name!” I urge the nurse. “That way, I can ask for you when I come for another MRI next year!”

“I’m getting married in January,” the nurse laughs.

“Then tell me your married name!”

She does, but alas, I’ve already forgotten it. XD

Anyways, before each MRI, I also haveta get an x-ray done first, so the technicians know where the shunt is located inside my head.

I transfer myself into one of their wheelchairs, and then some technician and I wheel me into the MRI room.

First of all, another technician goes through the form I’ve filled out with me. It’s just to clarify that I’m not wearing a pacemaker, hearing aids, any type of metal, etc.

After I transfer onto the MRI tube, the technician gives me the alarm bell, which I can press in any emergency. Last year was funny; I accidentally sneezed and squeezed the thing; immediately, the technician was over the intercom, saying, “Emily, is everything alright?” I’d given a sheepish apology: “sorry, sorry! I just sneezed and squeezed the thing; I’m fine, thanks.”  XD Then he puts the headphones over my head, allowing me to listen to the Westlife album that mother had so kindly brought along for me.

And into the tube I go. Funny pounding and whirring noises start; I relax, close my eyes and have another serious talk to God, probably the first one since I last fully talked to him during my last MRI. I told him how much I still seriously DESPISED him for ruining my life, how disappointed I was that he hadn’t seen fit to heal me and how I was still living everyday rising above his hatred.

The MRI lasted about five songs, and after I slid back out of the tube, the technician remembered that I wasn’t supposed to sit up! See, after an MRI, the magnetics of that machine can throw out the settings and pressure of my shunt, and I’m not supposed to sit back up afterwards until a doctor comes around with some gadget, presses it against my head and resets the settings. Last year, the technician hadn’t a clue, and told me, “Okay, can you sit back up now,” but luckily, this year’s technician was smarter; he simply called over another technician and nurse and they  slid me onto some plinth, which only has a short side rail, not like the ones I was used to when I lived in the insane asylum, which were full length rails. But this side rail was placed in the direct centre of the bed; there was no way I’d fall out.

Two people rolled my bed back to the area where mother was waiting, but I didn’t stay there long, coz I was quickly whisked back off to the x-ray department, where I told my brain (or what’s left of it XD) to smile for the camera while the x-ray technicians (are they called radiographers?) took another shot to check if my shunt had wiggled elsewhere during the MRI.

Back where mother was waiting, I tell her I’m really hungry, and she kindly opens a packet of white, rectangular cream bikkies and I munch two. I also use a bedpan once, then just doze, awaiting for the doctor to check my x-ray then come and reset the shunt, if need be.

The call comes well past 4pm that the shunt settings weren’t changed and that I’m free to go.

Mother drives us back home, but we forget one thing: It’s peak hour traffic! So we crawl along the highway, crawl along Logan road and finally, finally make it back home at like 5:50pm!

Thankfully, there are no phone calls waiting for us; nor does the phone ring all night, for which I’m exceedingly grateful. See, if there’s anything amiss with your MRI, the hospital notifies you immediately. As such, the night before, I’d gotten on Facebook, thanking everybody for keeping me in their thoughts and prayers, then adding, please DO NOT ring our home number and scare the bejeebers outta me! Just ring our mobiles, please!

I’m super-duper relieved that the phone stays silent all night, and look forward to my follow-up, where basically, I’ll head into the consulting room, take a seat, hear the doctor go, “your MRI was all-clear. See you next year.” XD

Actually, I had a question to ask the doctor. It’s the same question I asked the two doctors I saw last year and the year before. Remember how I said that after my MRI, I’m not allowed to sit back upright until the neurosurgeon comes to reset the shunt with some little handheld gadget device thing? Well, now that I suffer from memory loss, what would happen if idiot me forgot and sat upright? Would I, like, DIE?! XD Two years ago, the doctor had said, “Well, you might get a small headache,” but the doctor last year totally dismissed my question with, “Nah, nothing will happen.” So I explained this situation to the doctor I saw for my follow-up, and then said, “I’ll let you be the be-all and end-all of the question. What will happen to me if I’m forgetful and sit back up? Instant death or something particularly gruesome like that?”

She laughed, and reassured, “No, don’t worry. The chances of you even getting a slight headache if you sit upright are remotely minute; in fact, we often walk patients down to the MRI area just to get their shunts reset.”

Well, phew. That’s a huge relief to know, and indeed, when I get back home from the hospital, I post up the James Bond theme song ‘Die Another Day’ on Facebook, meaning that I will indeed live to fight and die another day!

So ends the saga of me having another MRI next year; again, huge thanks to everyone who kept me in their thoughts and prayers. :o)

Next post here … well, depending on how punctual I am, my next post may come on Sunday night! See, the parents and I are attending our church camp tonight for the weekend! Righteo, until then!

Cheers,

Em. ^^