Today is CT and MRI day, which should be easier than colonoscopy day! At least I can eat and drink normally. The CT is booked straight after the MRI so I’m going to have to drink lots of water, lie absolutely still for half an hour and pray my bladder doesn’t persecute me.
I am terrified. For some stupid reason I hadn’t anticipated this at all. There was no time to try to get accustomed to it – just lie down and get swallowed up by the machine. I have a panic button which I of course tell myself I can’t use. I keep reminding myself how very busy the staff are and that I mustn’t waste their time and resources. I try to pray but that makes me emotional at the moment and since I’m on the verge of tears that’s not good.
Man up tablets not working. Panic rising. Must find happy place in brain. Favourite beach. Not working. Good grief I don’t know how long I can take being trapped. Must. Not. Push. Button. Try to breathe slowly. I know I’m not supposed to move but should I try to breathe small shallow breaths or longer deeper ones? I have no idea. Breathing is difficult. I want to scream. Get a grip girl!
Alternative happy place. Think dog – think putting my face into the warm fur of his neck and resting my arms on his shoulders. That’s better. Still panicky but better. Tomorrow morning I’ll be drinking coffee in bed, my Bible on my lap and the dog beside me. This won’t last forever. Keep thinking about the dog. I hadn’t realised how much my little ritual meant to me – starting the day with a bit of the Bible as the coffee clears my brain fog and the dog cuddles up alongside. Small things can be really precious. Thank God for dogs – again.
And then it’s over. 🙂
I am shaking so much that it’s difficult to get off the scanner bed. The noise hadn’t bothered me (and the earplugs they gave me helped) but the feeling trapped, the jittery feeling in my legs (possibly stress), that was so much tougher than I’d expected. Husband gets claustrophobic. How on earth did he manage the MRI??
Still shaking I bumble down the corridor to the CT area. I’m not sure what to expect and am faintly embarrassed by my shaky arm as the radiologist?? tries to get a needle in. He is very kind and explains what will happen.
It’s a breeze. I don’t get the horrible feeling of wetting myself that he said I might (bit of a warm feeling but really nothing). An automated voice tells me when to breathe in and out and it’s oddly reassuring to simply focus on doing what I’m told – I’m not usually good at that! I wish the MRI had had a voice talking to me a bit, preferably telling me how far through it I was!!
Well that’s all done. We can go home and actually live normally for a bit while waiting for my appointment with the colorectal specialist, to come through.