Don’t Mess

Today is what I call “MRI Day.” What is MRI day? MRI day happens every four months, (used to be every three) and it is almost a full day at the Brigham and Dana Farber to check the size of Frank. I start with a 7:40 a.m. MRI, (7 a.m. arrival) then 10:15 labs, and 11:30 results with the doctor. The doctor normally runs up to two hours behind so there is a lot of waiting. Today was the first day I brought my laptop, which I am really happy about because I NEED to write. My fingers are currently slamming on the keyboard in the Dana Farber cafeteria.

Alarm went off at 6:15 and I whined as I heard it, knowing what today was. I also woke up in a weird mood because I had one messed up dream about an ex from college and another disturbing dream I can’t remember. One of my medicines makes me have messed up dreams – I mean things I would never, ever think. I threw on some comfy clothes and my lucky jewelry – grandma’s watch, my cross bracelet, breathe bracelet, purple sarcoma bracelet, and lucky elephant earrings (thanks Lauren J). I could kind of tell walking out of the house that I was in one of those on-the-war-path moods.

I go to these days by myself now because it is just easier and the tumor has been stable for almost a year? I think? I have my routine down – I know which MRI machine I like, where I like to get breakfast, what questions to ask, etc. My on-the-war-path mood was confirmed when I got my sheet to fill out at the MRI place. On the back they make you list out your medications, which always pisses me off because I have so many and I know they are on my chart. So, today I wrote, “you have these listed on my medical chart, not writing them out.” BOOYA! They call me to get changed and I have to put on the gross hospital pants and gown. I lock up all my stuff and I was off to get my IV put in (need it for the contrast injection during MRI). The girl asks the typical, “Which arm?” and I say the typical, “Doesn’t matter, I just have small veins.” She looks around and decides on my left arm – for some reason I could tell she wasn’t going to be good. Yes I have small veins, but they are great veins and if you are good you get them right away. No second shot! (Learned that from my momma!) I never look at the needle because I just don’t like to…so I feel the prick and then she is friggin’ fishing around in there. Then she says, “Your veins don’t like needles, huh?” And I said, “They do, they are just small.” Again, I KNOW that my veins are great, you just can’t see them. At this point I think she saw and heard my sigh/eye roll as she was still fishing around. She said, “Sorry.”

The damn needle was finally in and the girl came over to bring me to the MRI. Needle pokes and fishing are no big deal for me now, but again, the mood. So the girl starts walking me down the hall and I say, “Music, right?” She tells me that I am in a different machine and they don’t have music there. I have had probably seven MRIs at Brigham and I specifically go to a certain location because the machine is slightly bigger and they have music. Poke #2 to the bear’s routine.

I lie down on the MRI table and they start to hook up all my shit. Earplugs, contrast to IV, big heavy thing over pelvis, and emergency squeeze ball in right hand – I know the drill. The helper dude introduced himself and I thought to myself wow, good job, just introducing yourself makes you feel like a person to me, and me feel like a person to you. Thanks, Dave? …Don’t remember his name ha.

The MRI is normally about 45 minutes. The girl told me that if I needed other headphones for the loud noise to let her know. The thing is pretty damn loud and I normally have extra headphones for the music. We start with a few pictures and some breath holds, and it’s wayyy too loud for me. I am thinking, ugh I should ask for those extra headphones but I don’t want to. It’s too much effort to speak up and I don’t want to be a pain. Then after two more pictures of loud ass noise in my ears I thought, you are the patient and you can ask for whatever you friggin’ want. It is their job to listen to you and your needs. I spoke up. She came in and gave me the headphones, no problem. I consider myself a VERY outspoken person, and I ask a ton of questions about my care, but I am still working on noticing those times when I am reluctant to speak up. It’s just so hard as a patient.

The MRI actually went by pretty quick today. Yes – I just said one positive thing! We get to the end and she injects the contrast, which makes you feel like you peed your pants. A few more pictures and they came in to get me out. The nurse starts taking out my IV and I said that I needed to keep it in because I am headed to the Farber for blood work. She quickly says, “You can’t keep it in. It’s contaminated. They should never do that – the labs could be wrong.” I told her that they have done it every time. She reassured me that it is not ok. I believed her, but then thought, are you fucking kidding me that you are the first person correcting this? So all of my other labs have been wrong? NOT ok.

I get back to the changing area and while I am waiting for another woman to get out, this lady starts chatting with me. Tells me her sister has cancer and I told her I have a pelvic cancer and she is in a great place, blah blah blah. She then starts to say that she has had a hysterectomy and has some bleeding. She wanted to know if I had that and thinks maybe she has what I have. OMG seriously…you don’t have what I have because of your damn pelvic bleeding lady. I am not in the mood for this. I know everyone’s problems matter but this is me, and my mood today, in all its honesty.

I headed to Au Bon Pain for breakfast because they have better breakfast sandwiches than the Farber cafeteria. A quick call to my mom to bitch, then I was off to the Farber to grab a spot in the caf where I am now. I could really do without the TERRIBLE elevator music and “inspiring” stories around me on the walls and TVs today. I saw one of the heads of hospital in the cafeteria that I work on the Patient and Family Advisory Council but I pretended not to see him all three times he walked by. Just not in the mood. Can’t mix patient time with patient advocacy. Too much.

I’ll be here all day ladies and gentleman…no, really ha. Hopefully the rest of the day goes smoothly, we shall see.

Don’t mess…