It was very loud, the headphones pinched, the machine sounds got really close to my face, and the tech who injected the contrast used a spork and a rototiller to get into a vein in my right forearm. Once in, I’m pretty sure he stirred the needle around on all of my nerves and then poured hot tar on it to close the wound.
Fine, maybe he gave me a normal injection and put the gauze and tape over it like he was supposed to, but it still hurts and I can’t take anything but water between now and 3:30 a.m., at which time water is also out of the question. Bad night for a headache and a pitchfork to the arm.
Two of the sisters and the granny came for dinner, with the youngest nephew and some of our good friends. It was great to have them around. The little sister came bearing a care package with all sorts of cheer-inducing goodies, half of which are packed in my overnight hospital bag. Along with the Snickers Peanut Butter Squares our friends gave
Our pastor came over to check on us and to pray with the husband and me. The support of our church family has been overwhelming and humbling. And then it was off to the hospital for the not-at-all-stealthy-MRI, for which procedure the nurse almost gave away my appointment because we walked in at 10:30 on the nose. I didn’t even care; I have been on time or mega-early for all of my appointments dealing with this and walking in just barely on time for my fourth MRI in as many weeks was not high on my list of things to care about today.
As with every other appointment I have had, I had to fill out the information sheet asking why I’m there, whether I have used recreational drugs since 1979, if I have metal in my eyes, and where I’m feeling the pain. The husband filled this one out for me because even if the MRI nurse doesn’t know or care, the original purpose in all of this stuff was to find out why my left arm is too weak to control a pen but strong enough to punch someone in the face* when I’m hungry and she’s about to give away my appointment.
Across the bottom of each of these forms is the drawing of a head, from each of the four cardinal angles. The patient is supposed to shade the areas of the head where he or she is feeling pain. Tonight I played along, yet again, but next time I’m drawing moustaches and speech bubbles and I will blame any inappropriate comments on Martha.
*I didn’t, by the way. I didn’t even try. But I know my arm is strong enough to do it if I need to.