Now Comes the Hard Part

I've dreaded this day for more than one reason. It was eleven years ago March l6th when my mother had an MRI. She had been in pain for months -- had turned yellow, but kept getting told from her regular doctor her "problem" was she was "overweight" "diabetic" or it was "all in her head." Finally when the pain became unbearable she went to the emergency room. They ordered an MRI on her.

The following morning, March l7th, she was told rather nonchalantly, her "problem" was she had pancreatic cancer -- with a tumor so large it was inoperable, and "oh, by the way, the cancer is also in your lymph nodes and brain." I won't go into all the horrid details but will say this -- three agonizing months later she was gone.

So when my daughter's MRI was scheduled for today, March l6th, my mother's plight flashed through my head. I haven't slept the last couple of nights, although I must have dozed off for a couple of minutes because last night I dreamt I was in a crappy funeral parlor. I was so upset I woke myself up.

We just got back from the MRI and if I had to use one word to describe it, that word would be LOUD! I sat in the room with the girl who was entombed in the magnetic canister with headphones blasting a "My Chemical Romance" cd. The nurse gave me foam ear plugs which didn't block out the sound, but did mute it so it was bearable. It's a constant noise, with an array of different sounds, all of which are loud. The girl lay perfectly still, even when they injected the contrast in her, for over twenty minutes. The nurse said she did wonderful and the girl said she's now claustrophobic.

Now comes the hard part, waiting for the results, and praying history doesn't repeat itself and I don't get a phone call tomorrow. I figure no news is good news and if I don't get a phone call before the follow-up exam next week, it won't be anything serious.

Damn, I wish it was a cheat night...I could use a glass, or bottle, of wine.