Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Fun in the MRI Machine

Today I had my MRI, which is necessary for the surgeon to know how bad the fibroid(s) is/are before he does the UAE procedure, which I discuss here in this entry.

I've never had an MRI. Jess had one when she fell off the stage in 10th grade and strained her MCL (knee) really bad. She told me what to expect, a little. Everyone told me the noise would be overwhelming and annoying, so I steeled myself against that concept and went in there today, expecting the worst.

I had to have an IV for the contrast pictures, the tech did a great job of getting it in and it not killing me. She got me all set up and handed me a list of Sirius/XM radio stations and told me to pick a station... any station.

Looking over the list, I opted for the E Street Band Station, All Bruce All The Time. I did this in honor of the passing of Clarence Clemons... more on that later.

My shoulder still isn't 100% but I was kind of psyched at how far I could get it down flat sort of up beside my head. She put a pillow under my hand and got me all comfortable. I joked with her that I was way way wayyyyyyy too fat to fit inside that stupid thing. She laughed and told me that I was indeed NOT too fat to fit inside. She put stuff on my abdomen, and I pointed out to her that now most definitely we were not going to be able to get in there. She told me to shush and plinked me in the arm.

We had a good laugh.

She went behind the glass and shifted the magical gears to roll me into the tube.

Now, I did fit. Nothing rubbed against the roof of the tube. That was kind of reassuring that I am not a giant huge unbelievable monstrously fat fatass. She cranked up the Sirius/XM radio, as cranked as it can be compared to the sound of the machine.

There were some soft acoustic strains of a song that I couldn't even identify as the machine started its own symphony. I probably should have asked her for the electronica station, because the machine sounded much like some sort of soundtrack to a rave.

Two "pictures" into the process my arm really started to hurt. The shoulder was just not loving being in the extended over my head position. I managed to move it about a bit, put my left hand under my elbow and hold it up. She asked me if I was okay, and I told her that I would make do and it was alright. Two more pictures, and it just wasn't working anymore. My muscles in my side were quivering, the shoulder itself was starting to spasm. She came in and adjusted me, putting my arm across my chest under my chin. While feeling a little tight in the breathing, this was much better. Much.

The radio started playing a recording of Bruce's 2009 Meadowlands show, the second to last show ever there before they tore it down. When they started to play "Tenth Avenue Freeze-out" I actually cried a little bit. Listening to the crowd lose their minds over the lyrics "When the change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band, from the coastline to the city all the little pretties raise their hands. I'm gonna sit back right easy and laugh, when Scooter and the Big Man bust this city in half..." really really impressed sorrow on my heart at his passing.

The MRI tech came through my earphones. "Are you okay? You're crying. Are you in pain again? Is this freaking you out?"

No, honey. It isn't the MRI. I explained to her that I was sad for Clarence. She didn't know who he was, she knew the songs and the sax but not the man's name.

A few more images later, a few where I had to hold my breath, a few with contrast getting injected into my arm, a few that lasted over 5 minutes .... and then we were done. It was a good thing too, because I was starting to get hot and uncomfortable inside the tube, and my feet and hands were freezing from sticking out of the tube.

The noise of the machine indeed didn't bother me, and I kind of left doing my own noisy little beats that sounded like the dang thing. They gave me a CD of the images. I haven't looked at it yet, because I will, of course, have NO idea what the hell I'm looking at.

Now I guess we wait for the vascular surgeon to let me know what the next step is. But this was a lot better than I expected it would be.

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