I'm still alive, I swear! A lot has happened in my little corner of Sick Girl Land as you'll soon see. Over the next week or so, I'll be catching you up. For now, jump into your time machines with me and travel back to March 26th and 27th. Today, we learn how MRI's can roam the world freely.
The day after my four-hour emptying study, I was scheduled for an MRI of my brain. This is done to make sure that there is no abnormality of the brain that could explain the symptoms of GP. This time I asked my brother to come with me for the scan. I didn't think I had it in me after the emptying scan to face the MRI on my own. It turned out to be a very good thing that he was with me.
I got to Big Academic Medical Center with little time to spare, having come directly from work. My brother was waiting for me already. I went to check in. The woman at the desk rifled through some papers for a minute. Then she told me I wasn't on he schedule. OK...where was I on the schedule? The woman gave me directions to a new location where she said they were waiting for me. I went and told my brother about the snafu, and we set off to find the right location. After some confusion about directions, we made it to our destination, a sleek office building. The security person said that there was an MRI scanner in the basement, and told us how to get to it. We took the elevator down and followed a hallway with a lot of twists and turns. We got to the MRI. I tried to check and the the tech told me that his scanner wasn't a brain scanner, that I must be at the wrong place. Was he kidding? Where the heck was I supposed to go? He gave us directions to a third place and off we went. At this point I had missed my appointment, and I was nervous that they wouldn't scan me.
I finally got to the right place, checked in and filled out paperwork. They finally called me back and promptly led me to a dressing room to change into a gown. Two things were wrong with this sitiation. 1. No way was I completely changing for this scan. This was not my first time at this particular rodeo. I had been smart enough to wear pants that I knew were MRI-safe that day. 2. The dressing room door was so narrow I couldn't fit through. So, after I asked whether I could just take off the things of my outfit that weren't MRI safe, and finding a bathroom I could use to do it in, I was ready,
The tech who would do the scan came to talk to me and seemed to want every last detail of my medical history. After what seemed an eternity, we were ready to get the show on the reoad. The tech looked like he would not have been able to lift me, so with some direction from me, he and my brother hoisted me easily to the table. At which point I started to panic. This MRI didn't have any straps to help me feel more secure on the Scanner Table of Death. I cried and begged to no avail, until I simply closed my eyes and they slid me into the magnet.
Typically techs talk to me before starting every series of images, I heard not a word from this guy. Every time I heard the telltale pinging signaling the beginning of a new set, my overworked startle reflex went a bit crazy and I jumped a foot. Fun. It eventually finished, A new tech and my brother put me back in my chair, I got changed and we left. I was so glad to be done!
A week or so later, my motility specialist called and said that the MRI had come back abnormal and they needed an old one to compare it to. I called Big Academic Medical Center where I used to live and got them to send me a copy of my five-year-old scan that I'd had done there. After some delay due to being admitted to the hospital (a super-fun time, I'll tell you about it in the next series of posts), I dropped the disc off with my motility specialist. She called and said that comparison showed no new changes between this scan and the old. I didn't think there would be. I mean, I have CP, which means my brain is screwed up anyway. Essentially that's all they found. Hooray for being normally abnormal!
Next up:The 2012 Coughlympics Begin.
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