Tag Archives: MRI

Okay, I’m A Big Baby 

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MRI Scan Machine

I’m not going to say that getting an MRI is the worst thing that ever happened to me, but it certainly can be categorized as tortorous. I had to get an MRI today because I twisted my knee three weeks ago and the pain now is intense. I walked into my closet and took a misstep. It was as simple as that. I immediately.saw stars. After a few minutes, I felt fine.

This happened just before I left for CES in Las Vegas. I complicated the possible injury by walking miles with a limp. It didn’t bother me for the five days I was there, but when I got back to Miami, the throbbing began. I ignored it for a while, but now nine days later, I can’t  get across the room without excruciating pain. I hobbled into an orthopedist’s office today at Mt. Sinai on Miami Beach. After an X-ray of the knee, he declared that I may have a stress fracture. 

His words are still stinging in my ear, “We have to be careful with people your age because stress fractures can be problematic. They must be treated, so we have to do an MRI to see exactly what you have.”

I’m officially old.  I had an MRI, and something called an MRA, a few years ago to examine my heart. Everything turned out to be completely normal, but that trip in the donut hole, really tested my stability, or the lack of it.

I hated it today too. If there is one innovation I hope for in the future, it’s a new way to do these tests. Yes, I’m very grateful for this technology, but panic-attack sticken people like me total freak when we have to hold still in a small space for 45 minutes. I was totally isolated in a round hole with clanging noises that gave me a headache. Earphones couldn’t drown out the high volume of the noise. Since it was around six o’clock at night, I kept thinking that everyone went home and I was just left there to rot. 

I couldn’t stand it any longer. I squeezed the ball that sounded the alarm. It felt like forever before the technicians answered.  “You’re doing fine, Lois. The film is coming out great. You only have two more minutes to go.” Ten minutes  later, I was finally released. I was sweating and freezing at the same time.

As I was getting dressed, I heard a commotion in the next set of curtains. It turns out that some younger guy woke up that morning paralyzed. He couldn’t feel a thing from his waist down. After a number of day long tests, they told him he needed an immediate operation and there were no guarantees. I heard enough.

I ran out to Eliot who was waiting for me in the  visitors lounge. He said, “Are you hungry?” I replied, “Only for a Cosmopolitan.” He made me one the minute we got home. 

Tomorrow, the results. I can hear my mother saying, “What can be cured, can be endured.” I pray for good health for all.

 

This Was No Dunkin Donut

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I accomplished something yesterday I’ve never done and always feared. I had an MRI. I actually had an MRA (same machine), a type of MRI that checks for blood flow. Monday I go in again for the MRI, part two of an exam to check my heart.

Many years ago, I was told I have a mildly enlarged aorta. When I was younger the doctors were not concerned. As you get older, they like to pay more attention to it to make sure it doesn’t get larger, or eventually explode. Lucille Ball died from an aorta problem she was unaware of.

Since Lucy and I are so similar (I am kidding), I decided to finally get on a prevention program with my cardiologists. I had already been given an EKG and an echocardiogram by Dr. Robert Segal and his associate Dr. Bipul Roy who then suggested the MRI and MRA to have a more in-depth baseline.

Well, this Digidame flipped right out in their office. The suggestion of being inserted into a donut hole made me freak. My equilibrium became shaky for a few seconds and my breathing labored. I hate being out of control, so I immediately focused on getting my stability back. Then I went to war with Dr. Roy about not wanting to be trapped in an MRI.

He hunted six weeks for an open MRI for me that my insurance would pay for. I am not going to go into all of the false starts we experienced at other radiology centers that claimed they had open MRIs. That is a whole other story about people trading on false information.

What I learned as a novice (pretty pathetic, considering I am supposed to be somewhat tech savvy) is that an open MRI doesn’t mean open the way I interpreted it. Open means both ends of the donut are open, but your body is still inserted into the tube.

I thought Park Avenue Radiology would have an open MRI where I could see the sky. No siree! It was a donut. I told the technicians I couldn’t do it because I was claustrophobic. The truth is I am neurotic. Interestingly enough, Dr.Oz had a TV segment yesterday suggesting that none of us is ever really in control. It registered very deeply with me, and I was thinking about it while considering chickening out. The tech guys asked me to relax in the waiting room while they took another patient.

While I was sitting there, a woman around my age arrived with her husband. She was shaking and crying because she too was scared. She was uncontrollable. Her husband immediately informed the technicians that he would have to accompany her to the MRI room. They agreed without hesitation.

I watched the two of them interact just the way Eliot and I would have. He kept reassuring her everything would be okay and she kept snapping back at him, telling him to be quiet and to stop annoying her.

For some reason (where are the therapists when you need them?), her hysterics gave me the courage to proceed. I also have to admit the two male technicians I had were terrific. They articulated every step of the procedure, coaching me as if I were five. Sixty-five is more like it.

I did pretty well considering I dreaded this my whole life. I am acting like a big shot now. Let’s see how I get through part two on Monday.

I also want to thank my friend Dr. Williams Lucena who once told me he was very capable of doing something out of his comfort zone. I once asked him if he needed help with a particular travel task and he turned around to me and said, “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” I kept thinking about his words as they were rolling me into the donut hole.

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