It's not my best pic ever. I'm now regretting not having flashed a "thumbs up" with my left hand. Oh, well. There will be other opportunities to take lame hospital pics, I am sure.
Shortly after this picture was taken, I went from smiling and laughing to ... not smiling or laughing. I have bad veins, people, and it's hard to get an IV in me. Add the fact that my nurse was an over-sharer and kept talking about how it wouldn't "thread" to the natural trauma that is getting stuck with a needle/hose in the arm and you'll understand why I promptly burst into tears and well... didn't really stop until about 2:00 that afternoon. (I only wish I were kidding.)
I tell you, it was a dramatic day.
After a good five minutes or so of fighting with the IV, it finally "threaded" - whatever that means (gag) - and I was prepped for my CT.
To explain why they do both CT's and MRI's on me: The CT is to check my chest, specifically my lungs. They want to make sure the "spots" that were found in January are staying the same and that nothing new is showing up. The MRI's are on my abdomen and pelvis (that's right, twice the pleasure and time of being stuck in the MRI tube) to chart any tissue changes and/or tumor growth. Because my tumors originate in my retroperitoneal tissue - lower back - any growth could go up (into my abdomen) or down (into my pelvic area).
Anyhoo... just before I went in for my CT, the nurse advised that I take my second Ativan (yeah, I need two milligrams to get through the CT and MRI chambers without coming completely unhinged), because it looked like they'd be able to do my MRI immediately after the CT.
Off I went to the CT. Hooray for radioactive dye being injected into an IV that makes you feel alternatively and simultaneously like you're about to puke and that you peed your pants. (And as much as I don't actually love those sensations... I do SO prefer a CT to an MRI.)
I came back from the CT and they put me back into my recliner to wait for the MRI. I was told that they were just finishing up with the patient currently scheduled, but were pretty sure they could get me in there in the next 5-10 minutes. I was rebundled with warm hospital blankets. (By now, I was up to seven blankets. Seriously, seven.) I had gone into the CT with the two I'd originally been given when they IV'd me, but I was FREEZING on their table, so they gave me three more. I carted all five back to my recliner, where they literally swaddled me with two more that they packed behind my back and then brought over my head and around my sides. I tell you, I was virtually a mummy. All that could be seen of me was my little face, poking out. (Too bad Jo had left the area and couldn't snap a shot of that sweet setup, eh?)
I fell asleep in my mummified state and was shocked to wake up over an hour later, still in the chair. Why hadn't they come to get me to go do the MRI? I was in a panic. ... As soon as the nurse saw that I was awake, she came over and explained that there had been someone else scheduled before me for the MRI. (What? Because before I fell asleep, I'd been told it would be 5-10 minutes.) She explained that he had been scheduled ahead of me, but had been late, so they were going to give me his slot. He got there right as the other patient was coming out, so they prepped him and put him in ahead of me. She apologized and said she knew it didn't seem right, since I'd been there ahead of him and he was late, but that he was technically scheduled ahead of me.
Okay, fine. I get it. We all need the MRI tube. We all have cancer, even, so I can't play that card. But still... I was annoyed. Only because I'd been told to take my Ativan almost two hours prior, and it was starting to wear off. She said he was about halfway through, which gave me another 30 minutes or so to just sit.
And fret.
And cry.
Yup... the Ativan was most definitely wearing off, which was not a good sign, because I'd already had the maximum dose in a 6 hour period and I was waaaayyyyyy past the comatose state I need to be in in order to get through an MRI without a meltdown.
Half an hour after I was originally scheduled to go in (2+ hours after I'd been told I was next and expected to be going in), I was taken back to MR. I was visibly shaken. The techs asked if I was okay. Tearfully, I answered that I was not okay. They asked if I needed to take medication. I explained that I couldn't have medication, because I'd taken it hours ago, when I was told that I was headed into have the MRI. They apologized for the delay, and again explained that the gentleman had been late, but his appointment was scheduled for the slot ahead of mine, so when he got there, they had to take him. I explained, choking on tears, that I understood that we all need the same test run, and I understand the protocol and why he went before me... the problem was that I have about an hour and a half window after I take a double dose of Ativan where I'm relaxed enough to get through an MRI without having a grand mal freakout, and that window had passed about an hour before. I told them that I wasn't mad at anyone, I was just frustrated that the timing had been off for when I medicated versus when I was taken back for the test. As I cried, they walked me back into the room with the machinery and proceeded to prep me for the MRI's. I cried as they packed my arms and my legs with blankets to keep them warm. I cried as they put the pads on top of my abdomen and strapped them down. I cried as they talked to me about how important it is to breath slowly and evenly so they can get an accurate picture of what's going on inside of me.
It was awful. Just awful to be strapped to a board, going into a tube, knowing full well that I needed to relax enough to be able to breathe on command, but also knowing that I was fighting a losing battle against claustrophobia.
Bless those sweet techs' hearts, because they'd come and rub my right arm where it was hanging out of the tube, to calm me down. They talked to me through the entire MRI, not just telling me when to breath in and how long to hold it, but also telling me that I was doing a good job. They'd periodically tell me how many minutes I had been in and how much longer I had. I mean, really, bless their sweet hearts for being aware that I was struggling in a major way not to completely lose it in there, and for helping me get through it as best I could.
By the end of the MRI, my hair was soaked at my temples, because all I could do was lie there and cry for an hour, while I tried to breath on command. My arms were above my head, outside the tube, so I hadn't been able to wipe away any tears. Everything had gone straight into my hair and down my neck. ... I tell you what, I was pretty pathetic looking. (Think of a wet cat. Wide eyed and bunchy hair stuck together.)
Lesson learned: I will never (never ever, ever, ever) NOT be the first MRI on the docket. While I totally understand that we all need to have tests run and there's protocol and a reason they schedule appointments, and I really do appreciate that they try to stick to the appointments as they're scheduled, I absolutely cannot let myself get put in that position again. I will control what I can control, and what I can control is never having to do an MRI again after the meds have worn off.
After the MRI's were over (an hour after I'd been told I'd be done - grrrr), I got dressed and Jo took me to Burger King so we could break our stupid fast with a Whopper and a Coke, and then she drove me to work. (Yeah, "our" stupid fast. The girl didn't eat or drink anything that morning either, in solidarity. Bless her. I don't get it, because I don't give up food or drink for anyone, but bless her.)
Because I have limited PTO, going home and being done for the day wasn't an option for me. (I mean, really, people. As hard as that morning had been, it was only marginally worse than almost every other MRI day I've had, and I'm just gonna feel worse and have crappier days as this progresses. I will work as hard as I can for as long as I can. I have to believe there's going to be some kind of karmic payback for that.)
I got to work just after 1:00 and worked until 9:00 tonight. The good news is that my day got substantially better once I was at work and had something to focus on other than my soggy hair and stuffy nose.
Tomorrow, I'll go in to work at 6:00 so I can leave between 12:30 and 1:00. My appointments tomorrow afternoon are at 2:00 (with the surgeon) and 3:30 (with the oncologist). I'm not sure, right now, which is more exhausting: the crying fit I had in the MRI tube this morning, or wondering if and how far the other shoe will drop tomorrow when I get the test results.
