Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Nothing says good morning like...

waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to have an MRI. That was the story for me last Friday. Coming off a St. Patty's Day buzz, I stumbled out of bed at 7:00, threw on some sweats and made my way to the OA center. There was no need to shower or beautify because I wasn't doing anything but lay down in a tiny tube for 40 minutes and panic. Oh joy.

I get there, and the whole place is more or less dark. I was there before most of the staff. Its 7:15 and all I want to do is go back to sleep, but I have a knot the size of Mt. Washington in my belly. I'm already feeling the anxiety of my claustrophobia and I'm only in the waiting room. The sweet lady at the front said "ok I can take you out back now." We walk through that maze of a building and land in another waiting room. She was shocked to see on my file that my insurance was going to cover the procedure 100%. "Where do you work and are there openings?" she asks. We talked for a bit about jobs and the economy, my hip surgery and books (I had brought The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) to read while waiting. Then she has me look through a book of possible music choices. I know from my first MRI back in August that it doesn't matter what I listen to, I will barely hear it anyway. I choose John Mayer's Heavier Things because I dig it and its kind of mellow. Then I wait an excruciating 20 minutes. The intake nurse comes out and said they are running behind because the girl in there now is highly claustrophobic and keeps freaking out and having to get out of the machine. Yikes bikes.

I try to breathe deep and get more lost in my book. I was supposed to go in at 7:45 and its 8:15. I just want to get it over with. I also try to remember that I took half a Xanax so I wouldn't have a panic attack. The last thing I want is to be like the girl before me and have to extend the miserable process even longer. Finally, I get to go in and in a moment of panic, I realize I forgot to take my bra off. Obvs, no metal can go into a giant magnet machine, and my bra had an under wire. I thought I was all prepared, wearing sweats with no metal or zippers, but I forgot about my boob-hammock. I run back to the bathroom/locker room and take it off, breathing a sigh of relief that I didn't have some scary House moment where the machine broke or something scary happened.

When I get into the room, the technician started the music and told me it would be only 25 minutes- which made me breathe a bit easier. I laid down on the table, she put the headphones on me, gave me the panic button and sent me in. The sultry sounds of John Mayer eased my mind a bit, but all the loud buzzing and banging gave me a headache. I made the mistake of opening my eyes, only to see that my nose is only a tenth of an inch from the plastic and I immediately shut them tight. I feel like there's no way out. The technicians voice comes through the headphones informing me I am "doing great" and that I am "halfway done." I could have sworn I'd been in there half a DAY already. Blerg.

Its all over after 25 minutes of loud noises. I grab Ethan at the office so he can have the car. I go home change and decide to wear my favorite flats because the sun is out and I want to boost my mood. Ethan drops me off, I step out onto what looked like dry grass and hear a disgusting squish noise. This tells me that I have stepped in mud. My foot was fully covered. As I squish my way into the building I detour to the bathroom, cursing my bad morning. I wash my foot and proceed to my office. The day did get gradually better, but an early morning MRI and then stepping in mud in my favorite shoes (the shoes are fine- they stood up well and cleaned up easy!) was not how I wanted my Friday morning to begin.

Now its a waiting game to see what the magic magnet reveals about my spine. April 4th is the follow-up with the doctor, unless they find anything "that needs immediate attention." Oh joy.

I'll be sure to keep you posted.



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