*TWO updates at the end.
So I just received a referral from Oliver’s neurologist for an MRI. It’s nothing immediately serious – just one more step in the never ending dance of finding out what’s going on with that weird little booger.
We started seeing the neurologist a few years ago, and I often feel like our twice a year appointments are more for her benefit than for his. Of course, I know that’s not true – it’s just the nature of the process. She monitors him, has various tests done and keeps track of his development. Which by the way, is extraordinary as far as I’m concerned. Nonetheless, he still has language and social delays, so we continue the regular annual tea parties with his various doctors and specialists.
At our last visit, the neurologist said that we should do an MRI to check the language centers of his brain. And I just received the paperwork in the mail today. This is somewhat of a coincidence since I myself just had an MRI this morning.
Right before Christmas, I noticed a weird little lump right above my c-section scar. Assuming it was a cyst of some kind, I made an appointment with my gynecologist to have it checked. While pregnant with the twins, I developed a cyst in a “none of your business” kind of place, and grew a few more for good measure after the birth. While totally gross, it wasn’t at all dangerous and it was easily fixed (a bit of TMI that I’ll refrain from inflicting upon you). So all in all, I wasn’t in the least bit concerned.
Since the lump was so close the surface, my doctor was able to determine whether it was a cyst or not with a needle. Yeah – that was fun…and after a few mildly uncomfortable jabbings she said that no, it wasn’t a cyst and that I had “just won myself a trip to radiology for a sonogram.” Awesome! I never win anything.
Funny enough, I’ve had sonograms done on several other body parts – not just pregnancy-related. There was the suspicious spot in one of my mammogram images (turned out to be nothing) and the super fun experience of having my leg veins checked (“Yes – you will someday have ropey veins all over your legs if you don’t have a procedure done, but insurance doesn’t pay for that. Just check back in with us when it becomes life threatening.” Good times.) So it was old hat for me. And after hours of time in the waiting room and on the table and cramping hunger pains due to an ungodly number of obligatory fasting hours, the tech finally came back into the examination room to say, “yup – we have no idea what that is.” Next stop: an MRI.
At least this one only required four hours of fasting.
And other than the IV required for some dye-related thing they did at the end, there wasn’t any discomfort involved. In fact, I was kind of looking forward to my time in the tube, as it sounded like a great opportunity to take a 40 minute nap.
Okay – so anyone who has ever had an MRI is laughing right now because it’s not at all like the cozy tanning bed scenario of my Grey’s Anatomy influenced imagination. It’s not that it was physically uncomfortable – but it was LOUD.
And I thought things were off to such a good start when I was changing into my robe and overheard a very “Seattle Grace surgical staff” exchange outside my door. Someone passing by said to the tech waiting for me, “pony tail today? Rough sex this morning?” I’m not kidding! Seriously – Mer and Cristina, you have one track minds – go dance it out or something. But I digress…
Back to the mundane business of medical stuff, the earplugs I was given helped – but muffling aside, it sounded like I was directly under a construction site. And it wasn’t the noise as much as the erratic nature of it that kept me from immediately slipping into a “mother of three small children – did somebody say nap?” coma. There would be 30 seconds of microwave noises – then silence – then a sonic boom – then machine gun noises – then nothing – then the technician’s voice over an intercom telling me to breath in or out or not at all.
So in addition to the auditory assault, I actually had to pay attention to directions. NOT relaxing.
But it was somewhat diverting in that the technician’s disembodied voice sounded exactly like the conductor announcements I heard every day during my DC metro-rail riding years: “Please clear the doors…Due to red line construction…last stop Shady Grove.” It was enough to make me fall asleep and miss my stop.
Which I eventually did.
The noise became more regular, the directions to stop my heartbeat for five minutes at a time ceased, and I unwittingly drifted off for the rest of the MRI.
Waking up in my cotton robe with a light blanket over my legs, I almost felt like I was in a spa after an hour long massage. Except that there were wires everywhere. And I hate getting massages. Perhaps a facial? Didn’t smell good enough… Either way, I was ready for another nap.
This is why I rarely take naps. Napping is supposed to provide you with much needed rest and rejuvenation. It’s supposed to give you more energy and enthusiasm for plowing through the rest of the day. Napping generally gives me more energy and enthusiasm for going back to sleep and never waking up again.
So as much as I was hoping for a good MRI nap – it was just like hoping for the offer of a free Blizzard at Dairy Queen. It sounds really good – worthy of craving even. But after the fact, you usually decide that it probably wasn’t a good idea.
Naps aside – the MRI is over and I now have a good handle on why Oliver will need to be sedated. Forty minutes of staying still in a noisy, fluorescent lit tube? Yeah – I don’t think he’d be cool with that.
I won’t get my results back for a few days. And to be honest, I probably won’t give it too much thought. I’m good at that – not thinking. There is no point in wasting the meantime with anxious worrying. I’d rather just ride it out. Read a book. Daydream about more pleasant things. Take an inadvisable nap.
In any given lifetime, the various destinations are usually unknowable and frequently inevitable. The meantime matters more. And at the moment, mine is fairly booked up with the day to day care of my children. From fishing stickers out of the toilet with trouble making twins to scheduling MRI appointments for exceptionally weird and wonderful five year olds, I’ve got far more interesting things to do than worry about things I can’t control.
But when I do reach my stop, I promise to be in touch as soon as my feet touch the platform. Hopefully I’ll have a clue as to where to find the right exit…thank god for GPS.
*Just heard from my doctor’s office. Still no idea what it is. So IT is now considered a “suspicious mass.” Tomorrow, I’ll receive a list of general surgeons to call so someone can cut this sucker out to analyze. I’m assuming it’s nothing. Please do the same. I totally believe in the good vibes, you know. Until next week…
**I can’t believe I forgot about this crazy scrap of conversation I heard outside of the changing room before the MRI. I added it above.
Itai had to have one two years ago during the big "your son might have a brain tumor" scare (he didn't, it was most likely viral meningitis, which is the non-dangerous kind, relatively speaking). He was fine for the whole thing – except that needle when they inject the contrast (they sedate up to age 8, he was 8 and 9 days). Two years later he still talks about that one damn needle as a low point in his life. Noise? No problem? Stuck in a tube? No problem? One needle? Fuggedaboutit.
Sending good thoughts to both you and Oliver, that both of yours come back clean.
xox
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I've had one MRI scan – I made the mistake of reading all about the powerful magnets first and I was terrified!
Also, I'm totally the same as you about naps making me just want more sleep. Which is not the same as saying I don't love the odd snooze ;)
Good Luck with the results!
I hope there's a decent nap in your future.
You seriously have THE BEST attitude Kate. I admire that in you so much – I would be a mess in your shoes. I WISH I had your calm demeanor. I have been meaning to call you to see what was going on – saw this in a comment on Chris' blog recently. Fingers crossed for a good outcome, of course. And I just have to say, I really loved reading this. I even subjected poor Matt to a few lines of it. He smiled, and even laughed too. You're so awesome!
You know Kate, you're going to great lengths to get that c-section scar cleaned up ;) Just kidding! Sending lots of goodness your way!
Believing it's nothing with you and sending along good thoughts for extra insurance. XO.
Believing deeply that it is nothing, and sending you all the good vibes I have. Please do keep us updated.
Also? How great to have that awesome conversational tidbit to keep you going in the MRI machine!
Oh I'm sending happy, positive, nothingbutgood vibes your way. You DO have such a great attitude about this… it's bound to make this process go smoothly.
Thinking about you – and wish I was closer to help you out during this!
BTW, I've had ultrasounds on my veins too – the joys of having vericose veins run in the family!
i'm sending some good vibes your way and hope that everything comes back ok…or nothing…or if it is something, then fixable :)
xoxo
Kate – I'm sending you positive energy and good thoughts. You have an amazing attitude and you're hilarious and wonderful to boot.
Seriously, lunch next week?
I hope everything is ok lady! I had to be sedated for my MRI and I was an adult. HAHA
Oy, Kate… Will be thinking of you. xo
Good vibes heading your way.
Okay, that conversation with the techs? I would have LOVED to have overheard that conversation. Very Seattle Grace.
And, Kate, sweet Kate. I will be thinking about you and hoping for you. Lots of love to you.
Hoping for great results for you. If your docs were worried, I'm assuming they'd have removed "it" already. You know the phrase "sicker is quicker", right?
only you can make an MRI scan seem exciting. i love you Kate! and i´m sending you lots of positive vibes!
Good vibes coming your way from Austin.
And what's up with the Gray's Anatomy dialogue? They should at least aspire to ER dialogue.
holy crap.
You have to let me know the MINUTE YOU FIND OUT.
Although I feel only good things…..
I believe in good vibes, too, so I hope you feel them coming from Utah.
You described the MRI experience perfectly. Mine was the same! Duke has had a couple of MRI's of his brain. When he was younger we sedated him, but the last one, I stood beside him and touched his legs. It kept him calm and he didn't have to go through the terrible feeling of coming out of anesthesia.
Keep us posted, Kate. And I love the title of your post. Only good vibes… xo
Kate, you are amazing….you can even make a drab ordeal interesting. Keeping you and Oliver in my thoughts and prayers. We love you, Kate! xx
I have also won multiple ultrasounds and tests in my lifetime and they are never fun. And yes, you will be getting my good thoughts. I also believe it is nothing. They so love to poke around on nothing!
It sounds terrifying, although you were very brave throughout. Sending you very very positive vibes and some hugs for good measure. Keep us updated.
My goodness! How did I miss this post? I know it's going to be okay, friend!
I'm late checking in, but I'm sending out good thoughts to you and your Oliver for the things you'll be going through. I hope – and believe – you'll get good news.