I had an MRI last Wednesday to see how my brain was progressing after 3 Avastin infusions and 2 rounds of Chemo.
We honestly didn’t expect a whole lot. Given my challenges in the last few months, we expected some minor improvement if anything. Realism.
I went in for my MRI at the unreasonable hour of 7am. It was early enough to impose an MRI nap, which was nice. I had to convince the techs that this was NOT my first MRI, I knew what to do and how to prepare for the experience. I should make a t-shirt that says ‘This is NOT my first MRI’ so they know.
My appointment with my neuro-oncologist was at 11:00, giving me plenty of time to read and overhear a conversation someone was having with a friend about the importance of paying child support for the sake of your future relationships with your kids. I wasn’t eaves dropping, he talked quite loudly close to where I was reading.
When my appointment came around, the nurse practitioner came in and announced that she couldn’t wait to show us my MRI. This is weird because she doesn’t normally do this, but she was grinning ear to ear, so either it was good news or some alien had developed in my brain hole.
Turns out my results have been pretty spectacular. The neuro-oncologist was impressed, the NP was impressed, we were impressed (mostly because they were). Everyone was impressed. We even celebrated with our neighbors and family somehow when we got home.
The thing about getting good news like this is that it sends you into an upward spiral, putting you into a position where you wait for the next piece of bad news. Think roller coaster emotions. My husband and I discussed the phenomenon of depression that follows the good news shock. Seems ridiculous, but it exists. Its like waiting for ‘when the next shoe will drop’. We don’t mis-appreciate this good news, don’t get me wrong, I think the mixed emotions are just a part of the roller coaster effects of fighting a typically terminal brain tumor. After the last few months of ups and downs, I think the unexpected feelings are natural.
I’ll wait until my next MRI to feel truly impressed. Optimism.