I have to admit that I had forgotten to get the prescription filled for the fluid that's injected into your arm during the MRI. They had efficiently sent it to me and I did have time to do it, but I 'forgot' (mabye I just didn't want to acknowledge that the test was coming up). I told them I hadn't had time and the receptionist was lovely saying that some pharmacies are out of stock too, so they had stocked up themselves. I could use their supply and fill the prescription after the test and let them have the prescription fluid back. Very cool!
I seem to remember having an MRI and a receptionist tutting and moaning because I didn't have the fluid, which I didn't even know about beforehand. Today was different.
One of the radiologists came straight along and collected me with a smile (this so makes a difference) and put me in a little room with the gown, the strange dinner-lady hat and little blue slippers. She came back and injected me with the catheter which didn't hurt much, considering how tense I was. She was just so nice and showed that she was familiar with my case, saying, okay, we'll inject you on the right not the left and we'll use a small needle this time as your veins are so bad.
Then into the machine and another person also puts me into position. I must admit the tunnel was a bit tighter than I'd been used to. I don't think I'd put on that much weight! I had my ball to press to stop the world if I wanted to get off in one hand and a large pair of headphones playing jazz were put on my ears. I think this is the first time I remember listening to music during an MRI. I used my friend's trick and tried to count backwards from 500. I didn't even get to 400 and it was over. Lots of unpleasant noise and a cold trickling feeling when the liquid was injected, but I'm used to that and it was ok. I kept my eyes firmly closed during the exam as I didn't want to realise how hemmed into a little tunnel I was. I think if I'd have opened them, I would have freaked out and got all claustrophobic. Some things are better left unseen.
It was finally over and I was helped out. My needle entry point had bled a lot and the machine was quite bloody, as was my arm, but honestly I didn't feel it.
Then the wait..........if you remember, dear reader (and you are a dear reader bothering to read this), I needed to do a biopsy if the breast (s) was classified as ACR3. The glamourous head radiologist - you can tell the one in charge, they don't wear white coats, and this one was wearing Chanel, called me into her office. We sat down and she showed me the results on the screen. She told me she'd betted her colleagues that I had been operated on the right hand side too. I explained that they'd done a drastic reduction at the same time as the left and under the nipple is a large bruise, which feels like a ball. She said 'ha, voila! I knew it!' She showed me the ball and the scar tissue on that side.
And then she announced the good news I had not even imagined I'd get: she was classifying both breasts as ACR2 because she could not see any reason to do a biopsy, nothing suspicious, only scar tissue. I had NOT expected this. I had not expected to be able to walk out without the biopsy and the waiting afterwards for the results. I really had not expected this. I was thrilled and once I was outside I burst into tears and my legs went all wobbly.
I really feel like I can start to move on now. Enough with this tense, uncertain time. My next test is July for my annual mammo. I have been strung up tight for months and months. I hadn't realised how bad I was, but started to when I didn't want to leave the house except for work and when I realised that I had been stuffing my face with crisps and cake, to ease the pain. And crying at the drop of a hat.
I can move on now! Do you hear that, world? I'm going to dare to bring up reconstruction again at the next appointment, but for the moment, I want to move on with less stress and sadness in my life.
Tis a terrible thing, this cancer thing. You think you're out of the woods, but then you're not and if anything goes wrong again, the stakes are very very high - higher than they were in the first place really.
I'm gonna have a rest from thinking about this now. Dear husband has been feeling my pain, but not helped me because I don't think he knows how to and he's so caught up in his own work mess. But I could hear the relief when I told him. He's brought a bottle to celebrate tonight, which is kind.
And my few friends that I've shared this new challenge with, thank you to you for listening and being there and sending me texts and emails and Watsapps. Your continued kindness and thoughtfulness is very much appreciated. And by the way, if any medical professional is reading this - see how far a smile and a bit of kindness and calm can do to help your patient. It worked a treat today.
Here's a picture of the cake and coffee that I treated myself to after the exam (a mandarine éclair - just yummy) and here's the result I hadn't even imagined was possible today.
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