A mammoth undertaking

A couple of days ago I went in as usual to have my bag changed, except that between detaching the old bag and re-attaching the new bag I was scheduled to have an MRI scan. Not only that, the previous week I had had a bone scan, whose results I hoped to talk about with the consultant. The day did not go exactly as planned.

I arrived about half-an-hour early to make sure that there was as much time as possible to squeeze me in for detaching the bag. But even as I arrived, I could tell that things were odd. It turned out that the consultant was sick, and had sent two deputies in his place. Naturally, they were taking longer to see to people than the consultant would, as they had to understand each patient’s history in detail before they could start the consultation proper. A nuisance, but unavoidable in the circumstances. But to make matters worse things seemed to be going slowly in the treatment room, which meant that we patients were piling up in the waiting room, getting more and more restless.

I was bumped up the order, because of my MRI scan, so I saw one of the deputies fairly quickly. I zipped through the previous history as fast as I could because I wanted to talk about the bone scan, so you can imagine my disappointment when it turned out that the results hadn’t yet been posted. We guessed that the two intervening Public Holidays (Good Friday and Easter Monday) had been the cause of the delay. Again, unfortunate but unavoidable. Never mind, it meant that there was plenty of time for my bag to be detached before I had to go for the MRI scan.

You may be wondering why it was necessary to detach the bag. Actually it was the pump that was the issue. It contains metal and a battery, which definitely don’t mix with the enormously strong magnets that are used in MRI scanning. I had had an MRI scan scheduled for the same day as the bone scan the previous week, and it had been postponed to this day because of this very issue.

The time for my MRI scan was drawing near, but I was still attached to my pump. Eventually I decided that I had to go and let them know that I was around, but I couldn’t make the appointment yet because the pump hadn’t yet been detached. I told the MRI staff the situation, and they were very understanding, telling me to come along as soon as I could. I went back to the clinic to wait a little longer. One and a quarter hours later it was finally my turn to be seen. I checked that the nurse knew I was only being detached — she did, phew! — and within an hour and a half of the scheduled time I was back at the MRI scanner getting ready.

I had heard some scary things about MRI scans, namely that they were extremely claustrophobic and noisy, so I was somewhat nervous when I arrived. But it was all very different from what I was expecting. Maybe it would have been different if they had been scanning more than just my head. I removed all the metal objects from my pockets, as well as my watch and glasses, but I was not asked to remove my wedding ring. I was asked to lie down on my back, with my lower legs slightly raised on a pillow to take pressure off my back. My head went into a half-cylinder to hold it as still as possible, and a pair of ear-defenders was put on. I was given a bulb to squeeze if I got into any distress. The staff were kind, but quite matter-of-fact, as though this was all very ordinary, and by now it certainly began to feel quite unexceptional. After I was horizontal a small cage was put over my head, through the widely-spaced bars of which I could see an angled mirror. That was to allow me to see out of the tube that housed the scanner, but as I could see nothing without my glasses, it was an empty courtesy as far as I was concerned.

The bed was raised and pushed into the tube, and then the noises began. More than anything I was reminded of an experimental percussion piece. There were loud and quiet bangs, buzzes, and hums. The bangs would be quite rhythmical, sometimes six at a time, sometimes four. Often the quieter bangs appeared to be echoes of the louder ones. BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG bang-bang-bang-bang. Repeat three times. Bang bang buzzzzzzzzzzzz. Repeat several times. The buzzes would sometimes be at the same time as the bangs and sometimes after. It felt to me as though it lasted for about ten to fifteen minutes, although I was expecting it to be about twenty minutes total. Because it was more like some avant garde musical performance it wasn’t at all distressing or upsetting. Most of the time I kept my eyes closed, so there was no opportunity for claustrophobia to affect me. In fact, rather the opposite of being distressing, it was quite a calming and relaxing experience. Strange, I know, but absolutely true. Towards the end of the scan I was briefly pulled out to be given an injection of a contrast dye, then pushed back in again for about two more minutes of bangs, buzzes and hums. And that was it, scan over. I gathered my stuff and went back to the clinic.

By now we were reaching the end of the list of patients, so I didn’t have to wait long for the new bag to be attached, and then I went home. It felt like quite an anti-climax to what was otherwise quite an interesting, if at times prolonged day.

At least I should have two sets of scan results to discuss with the oncologist next week. I’m really looking forward to that. This MRI scan will provide the final proof that I do have a brain. Or at least, had something that looked like a brain that day…