“Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) is a type of scan that uses strong magnetic fields and radio waves to produce detailed images of the inside of the body.”
In layman’s terms it takes photos of my brain!
Before the scan I get asked a series of questions..... my favourite is when they ask if you’ve ever done any welding. My childish sense of humour always makes me chuckle and I’ve been known to answer “No, and I haven’t poured any buckets of water over myself recently either!” Please note - This joke only works if the person going through your form looks like they may have grown up in the 80s.....
They also ask if you have any tattoos. Apparently this is because tattooists used to use lead based ink and anything metal can heat up during an MRI. I do have a tattoo but it’s not old enough to use the old ink. Again cue the childish sense of humour; “Yes, but I didn’t get it done during the war and its not a prison tat or anything!”
The type of MRI I get involves having gladolinium injected into a vein in my arm. This is a chemical and essentially results in clearer pictures.
Fear of the MRI scanner can be a fairly common complaint. So much so that you’re given an emergency button to hold in your hand throughout the scan. If you find yourself feeling claustrophobic and starting to freak out then you can squeeze the button and presumably the scan will be halted. I say ‘presumably’ because thankfully I’ve never had to do it. Like many people, I don’t particularly like confined spaces, but my claustrophobia triggers are excessive heat and a fear of getting stuck.......particularly between two solid walls of rock. I think I watched Indiana Jones too many times as a child! Funnily enough, I don’t like snakes either....... (Again, if you didn’t grow up in the 80s then I have no idea why you’re even bothering to read this!)
I don’t mind lifts or small rooms. I reckon I could hide in a wardrobe if I had to without losing my mind altogether, but potholing would be a definite no-no. I’ve been in the catacombs in Paris without much issue but last year we visited Newgrange in County Meath, which is a ‘passage tomb’. As I slowly edged away from our tour group, I heard them being advised not to take any bags inside as the way in was very narrow. The worst I ever experienced was going into a hong in Thailand. A hong is essentially a rocky island with an open centre. To get into the middle you have to go through tunnels in a low lying canoe. At some points the tunnels are so shallow you have to lie flat in the canoe. It’s like lying in a pea pod, except the peas are overlapping so my son had his head on my tummy and feet at the end of the canoe, and I had my head on my husband’s tummy. And it’s hot. Damned hot. I lay in that canoe, with solid rock an inch from my nose, sweating, and I could feel the panic rising. I could hardly breathe by the time we popped out into a vast open cavern, surrounded on all sides by skyscraper-like rock faces; that one tunnel the only way in and out.
Unfortunately an MRI scanner doesn’t bring you the same visual rewards a Thai hong will bring you. You do not emerge into an impossibly perfect oasis of crystal clear water, blue skies, and monkeys. With an MRI you emerge back into a hospital room...... but you also emerge knowing the experts can now see what’s going on. I’ve been very fortunate that since treatment I’ve always had improving scan results. The day that changes might be the day I develop severe claustrophobia.
In the meantime my anxiety doesn’t come from the MRI scanner but rather from the wait for results and the use of the contrast dye. My veins are completely rubbish. They gave up long ago and are spindly sunken threads that hide well below the surface of my skin. To compound the problem I also have ‘a bit of a thing’ about anything being put into my veins. Too many films and Stephen King books makes me imagine death by lethal injection....
The medical staff are always very good but I now have to have an expert from Infusion Services put in a cannula every time I go for an MRI. Yesterday even the expert struggled but I told her to keep going. There’s no point travelling over 50 miles away from home to return home not having had a full scan. As she apologised and explained the ultrasound showed a vein but it was deep, I watched as she produced a needle so long I joked it might go into the crook of my arm and emerge from my funny bone! I repeated my mantra over and over as I do every time a needle is produced “I’ve had two brain surgeries and I was awake for one of them. I’m not afraid of a needle. It’s nothing. A quick, sharp pain. I’m not afraid.” A sharp jag and a pool of blood later, it was done. It took an hour and a half to get that vein. I’ll not pretend there wasn’t sweat running down my back by the time that cannula was in, but there was no tears or drama. I lay in that scanner and imagined the loud tapping was a woodpecker, pecking out any cancer cells that might be in there.
So if you ever need to have an MRI, remember to just imagine the woodpecker is pecking away the badness or whatever daydream works for you.
When I go to appointments I like to pick appropriate t-shirts. Usually Finding Dory ones about short term memory loss or being fluent in whale. For chemo my sister bought me one that said “Still hoping chemo will give me superpowers” (And, for the record, still not convinced it didn’t. Something certainly seems to have!) Yesterday’s confidence boosting t-shirt was a cracker I think......
To all those living with...... keep being fearless xx
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