My Magnetic Persona – Enduring a Non-Metallic Experience

So the instructions were don’t wear anything metallic. Even a grommet on your workout pants is forbidden. Arriving at the imaging center, a euphemism for you are here there is no return. Not sure yet just where¬†they are going to stick the “contrast” another euphemism for opaque substance that will flow through your veins, hit your heart and light up your organs like a candle, when you get there. I had eaten something beforehand, to make sure my stomach didn’t sound louder than that machine in there.

The MRI is a highly technical, amazing machine. But, it is based on some sort of echoing, and the computer works with the pulses to put together a detailed explanation of foreign growths, and invaders to the system, in my case, my thyroid. Both lobes have hosted a number of invaders, and it is time to identify, quantify and remove their asses from the field. They are not playing nice, and we have to call in the team to battle.

My tech was a nice enough fellow, who was all business. I find it funny that I, an older woman, suddenly is the center of a young man’s world. All his professionalism fell away when I would feel that reassuring hand on my arm as I slide into the tube for my MRI. They know, they know, I’m nervous as a cat. No, a squirrel. This is my magnetic personality.

This is the next step in my process of removing a small cancer from my body. It will be the next part I’m leaving in some incinerator. May it have a good journey to wherever parts go. Perhaps in a celestial warehouse to be reunited once again. Who knows?

Totally Rad! Thyroid Follies Continue

Apparently trying to get something done quickly and efficiently is not in the repertoire any more. I do remember working for a Thoracic/General Surgeon, Director of Surgery in the ’70’s, and boy did we drop everything when the C¬†word was uttered. Routine Halstead mastectomies, hernia repairs, follow ups on cold remedies, we dropped the phone and ran. But these days, one has to wait on a phone line for someone to actually get to their desk and sit and turn on their computers. Or finish their danish. Do they still have those?

I can imagine that that is what’s happening. My surgeon, bless him, has a good staff. They are most likely overworked, and live for the end of their workaday, when they can return to a routine they can understand. I can also understand that, but a patient under the gun, so to speak, cannot fathom a delay when there is a gnawing and a cringing, doubt and yes, fear, over the days to come.

I hope what I heard yesterday, that the planning is happening, is happening. I will be the person if need be, that they say – better call her before she calls back again. I am the only one who can speak for me, so I will.