MRIserible

My last post was nearly a month ago. A lot has happened in that month:
• Katie went to prom – she looked beautiful.
• I went to Connecticut for a long weekend with three of my girlfriends – it was divine.
• Taylor got a job at Calvin Klein – not as a male model. Yet.
• We confirmed with an actual doctor that I have sleep apnea.
• We found out Todd has a SLAP tear (Superior Labrum tear from Anterior to Posterior) and will require surgery in July.

Finally, I’m writing a new post. Will I post pictures of my gorgeous girl all dolled up for the big dance? Will I regale you with tales of four chicks on the Connecticut shore? Nope. I’m going to tell you about my trip to the radiology department in Bryn Mawr this morning for my routine breast MRI. Why? Because it’s what I do. It’s how I roll. It’s my shtick.

Part One – The Drive:

Since everything in my life revolves around the weather that’s where I’ll start. After a few days of miserable, humid heat, we’re having perfect weather. Low-humidity-open-the-windows-turn-off-the-a/c-drive-with-the-sunroof-open perfect. So that’s what I did. If you know me at all then you know great tunes were also involved. Top the road-trip mode off with no traffic and you have what was a fabulous trip into Bryn Mawr.

Part Two – The Waiting Room:

Anne Murray was playing in the waiting room of the radiology suite. She was a favorite of my parents’ and when they played “Lay Your Head Upon My Pillow” it took me back and put a smile on my face.

Part Three – The Changing Room:

The nurse took me back to the changing room and told me to undress from the waist up and put on the cute little wrap-around shirt. She asked if I had snaps on my pants, which, of course, I did. So she brought me some scrubs to change into. Then she said, “Hold on,” as she left and came back with some snuggy socks. I was told to secure all my belongings in a locker and then sit in the green chair at the end of the hall. She also advised me to bring my book (Water for Elephants) with me because I might be sitting there for a little while.

So after I changed into my extremely comfortable outfit (and one I would have loved to stay in for the rest of the day) I ambled down to the green chair, started to sit down and she said, “Nope! I’m ready for you in here.”

Part Four – The MRI Staging Room (because I don’t know what else to call it):

This is the part where they ask you about your surgical history pertaining to mastectomies and reconstruction. I’m happy to say all that is far enough behind me to where I had to think for a second. Just a second, but trust me – that’s huge!

After all the questions they ask very apologetically if they can see your breasts. They have to mark every scar and mole and whatever else there is on a diagram for the radiologist. I told her I didn’t mind. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was flashing my boobs to everybody in a pair of scrubs or a white lab coat – which was fine when I was in the teaching hospital my plastic surgeon worked from. It was a little awkward when I was in the grocery store and a lab technician or nurse would turn down my aisle, but that’s another story.

She then jabbed my arm for the contrast line and I was all set for my MRI, but the MRI wasn’t ready for me. She got off her stool and rolled it under my feet, told me to get comfy and enjoy my book while I waited. So I did.

Part Five – The MRI:

I explained the experience pretty well in this post from last year – the massage table, the udders, the jackhammers – it was all still the same. Except this time I didn’t have a headache to start with and it really was only about 25 minutes. I did leave with a headache, though nothing like last year’s, so I compromised and treated myself to a Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte instead.

Part Six – The Ride Home:

Uneventful. I still had the great tunes and the perfect weather. Now I had a Vanilla Latte and a headache. They seemed to cancel each other out.

Part Seven – The Phone Call:

The radiologist called me and said, “I thought you’d want to know today instead of fretting through the weekend that your films look great. Nothing suspicious at all.” How incredibly unusual and nice was that?

Part Eight – Wrapping It All Up:

The headache grew in intensity, hit a crescendo and has leveled out to a dull ache. I wonder if it’s just the horrid, loud sounds of the machine or if it’s a reaction to the gadolinium contrast or both. Whatever. I don’t care. All I know is that I get another No Evidence of Disease report and I like it!