If I’m counting correctly, this will be my 7th MRI since October 7th, 2012. I think there were 3 while I was in the hospital – maybe more. Apparently the shaved spots and lifesaver stickers were for guided MRI something or other. I had one about a month after my 6 weeks of non-spa treatment (Jan 2, 2013) which showed us what the radiation did to my brain and gave a vague confirmation that there was no tumor. Another in February – on my son’s birthday (he’s always wanted an MRI for Mommy for his birthday). This one confirmed that my post-radiation brain was progressing well – whatever that means – and there was no obvious indications of tumor growth. Another in April – this one being my favorite so far. No new tumor growth!
There have been many CAT scans too, but I couldn’t count those since I don’t remember some of them. I don’t remember the first one in the ER, but I remember in great detail when the doctor came in, sat down, held my hand, and told me that I had a brain tumor. I also remember the one I did before I started my radiation treatment. The CAT scan was very familiar by then – the very strange sensation of feeling like you’re peeing (warmth in your nether regions) when they inject the contrast dye. It was all of the other things happening around that particular scan that make it memorable – particularly the fitting of my radiation mask and the big brained physicists taking VERY precise measurements to ensure they were going to point the lasers in the correct places. I am a HUGE fan of those physicists since they apparently did the math right and hit the right spots.
Based on what I hear and read from my fellow brain cancer/brain tumor humans, we all have very mixed emotions about MRI day. Everyone feels anxious and hopeful at the same time. Everyone struggles with whether to risk planning activities or make commitments beyond the next MRI – which means we live in 8 (or 12, or 16) week intervals. If we have kids, there may be an extra level of anxiety…and of hope. At least that’s true for me.
Today is filled with emotions, as all MRI days are, but I know we’ll hear good news. Because failure is not an option.