My Alzheimer's Journey
Part 109 - My MRI Experience Today
As the mystery of my left thigh pain continues, an MRI was ordered. This MRI required part of the scan to be with contrast. That adds a layer of excitement to the already fun process.
An Uber delivered me to Duke Medicine Pavilion MRI about 12:50 this afternoon. By 1:00, I was checked in, and an MRI technician took to an exam room. He asked me approximately sixty questions all related to metal in my body. Well, maybe not sixty but at that moment it felt like it. My favorite question was, “Have you ever been shot?” Sign of the sad time we live in, I suppose.
After passing the test and knowing I have zero metal in my body, he presents me with a very fashionable paper shorts and shirt. The shorts were blue, and the shirt was green. Really, if I have to wear this paper junk, at least let the colors match.
The MRI technician departs to fetch an IV port, leaving me with detailed instructions on how to change into the paper clothes. At 68, I think I can handle changing my clothes without instructions.
The next bit of excitement came when the MRI technician failed to successfully insert the needle into my right arm. He moved to my left arm and claimed victory. Not that I am counting (actually, I am); but, I had an infusion Tuesday with the port in my left hand, I had blood drawn yesterday from my left arm, and today I had a failed attempt to place am IV port in my right arm and a successful insertion in my left arm. That is more than enough jabs for three days.
Wearing my beautiful paper outfit and carrying my clothes in a plastic bag, we head down the hall toward my favorite machine in the entire world (not!). After depositing my clothes and my phone in a locker, we enter the dreaded room. I can feel my blood pressure rising. Not to mention my anxiety meter going ding, ding, ding. I read that roughly 37% of patients experience MRI anxiety.
I think Duke should serve cocktails to MRI victims. A cold Grey Goose and tonic would have calmed me down immensely. Maybe I will suggest that to whoever is the Queen of MRI’s.
The process of placing pillows under my legs, taping the spot where my leg pain originates from, placing some strange boards on top of my leg, and strapping me down to keep me still took about fifteen minutes. Next came a warm blanket, ear plugs, and headphones. I am finally ready for my MRI. So, damn excited.
The bed slides me into the tunnel. Then, nothing happens for several minutes (seemed like ten minutes). I start worrying about suddenly having a leg pain episode. The pain is so sharp that I would be pushing the panic button and trying to crawl out of the machine.
Waiting for the MRI scan to start must be similar to being strapped in a rocket waiting for launch. I will never know because I have no desire to travel in a rocket. I suspect there is some rule that people with amyloid plaque can’t be space explorers anyway.
Eventually, the techno banging starts.
I am thinking about really stupid things. I should have gone to the bathroom. What if I start itching. What if I sneeze. And, the colossal concern is my leg pain.
The banging continues in odd patterns, rhythms, and pitches. If I didn’t know better, I would think the engineers that design MRI scanners do this on purpose. Hey, Joe, I took acid last weekend while listening to Metallica, I have an idea for a new noise we can add to our next MRI.
At some point in this lengthy process, my buddy, the MRI tech, speaks to me through the headsets. Between the banging and the dreadful music playing in my headset, I had no idea what he said. I just wanted out of the tunnel. Now!
Suddenly, I hear a young female voice in my ear. She clearly informs me that it is time for my shot of contrast. The bed slides out, and she gives me the contrast through my IV port. I am told that there had been a shift change during the hour that I had been in the machine. Maybe not an hour.
The MRI tech tells me I am doing a good job. How exactly does one do a good job in the metal torture chamber? Maybe, because I had not activated the panic button.
As I am pulled back into the tube, I began questioning if it is really important to know why my leg hurts. My ears have white noise most of the time, I am often confused about where I am when I wake up, I get anxious about lots of things, so what is a little leg pain? Excuse me, may I just go home.
Eventually, the techno banging stops and I feel the bed moving. Yippy! This dreadful adventure is over.
I am unstrapped, the IV port is removed, and I am led back to the locker and eventually to the exam room. With instructions to put my blue shorts and green shirt in the trash (where else would they go), I change and then order an Uber.
The Uber driver seemed worried about me. He kept asking if I was alright. Hell no, I just had an adventure in a loud, claustrophobic tube while wearing paper clothes that did not match.
The best news is that I have an MRI of my brain scheduled for April 7. Can’t wait.
To be serious for a moment, everyone took great care of me today. Duke Health rocks!