A couple of weeks ago, I brought you up to date on my major medical issues. Red blood count is down so no phlebotomies; I’ll keep using the nocturnal oxygen. In the beginning, I felt I’d never get used to the canulas and the soft noise of the machine. Now? It is a familiar part of my night-time routine.
Ongoing: Glucose readings were on the high side as was my A1C. I am taking new dosage of medication, using a new meter and now monitoring the numbers several times a day. I will see my endocrinologist in October and hopefully numbers will have come down enough that she will back down from prescribing insulin.
I have shared with you more than once my views on a breast MRI. Five years ago when cancer was detected and I was on the table for the MRI, my discomfort and emotional being were so challenged that I yelled: “Please bring me back out. We’re done here. No more!”
My oncologist has suggested an MRI, and I’ve been dragging my feet on this with all kinds of excuses: “It hurts my arms to keep them over my head,” “The opening pushes on my ribs,” “I can’t get my backside down far enough not to rub against the ‘donut’ of the machine,” ya da ya da! Well, he very calmly and gently told me that when I see him in September, he’d go over results of a breast MRI. Oh, oh I now knew I had no choice.
Folks, this time it was like a walk in the park. As suggested by the PA, I had the procedure done at the Armonk facility where the machine is newer and larger. As instructed, I took a low dose Valium just as my friend, Sybil, arrived in my driveway—she was my “guardian angel” that day. By the time we arrived at the location, I felt like I had a “buzz” on. My balance is normally not that good , so I just ambled along, hanging on to Sybil, feeling quit relaxed
Susan took over from Sybil and gently brought me to the MRI room where a smiling Judy was waiting for me. She and her assistant positioned me on a wider table which allowed me to bend my elbows instead of straightening my arms over my head—so much more comfortable. A little wiggle here, a little push there, head phones on to help block out the cacophony of sounds and I was ready. Of course all of this was very easy and laid back for me—I was floating in my own little world. Would you believe I even dozed off at one point?
Thirty minutes later and we were done. How different this experience was from the last one. I believe the preparation and suggestions before the test made all the difference—and the Valium and different machine. Thanks to Susan, Judy and the staff in Armonk for their kind care. The rest of the day, I took it easy at home, enjoying peace and quiet away from knocks, bangs, bells and buzzers.
An extra special thanks to Sybil for her gentle care—and laughing with me as she held my arm while I zigged and zagged in and out of the building.
Initial reports indicate that all went well and that it was a “good” test. My oncologist will go into more detail when I see him in September.