The Word MS is scary on its own, weather it’s a stranger, my friend or my mother that it is regarding.  But when it’s me it’s even scarier.

And then there is the MRI.  It stands between me and knowing.  Before I had my MRI it was like a standing at an intersection.  The street sign above me said MS.  Or was it something else equally horrible or did it say hypochondriac.  Either way it was not good, because I knew my symptoms were real, and this MRI was going to make me walk down a street not of my choice.  Worse yet, if I could choose, I honestly didn’t know which one I would choose.

The day before I had my MRI, a nurse phoned to confirm the appointment and to tell me not to wear metal and to ask if I had any tattoos, braces, metallic implants or slivers in my eyes.  “Nope”.  “Ok you can come.”

Armed with a letter telling me where to go (no pun intended), my mother and I went to the University Hospital, and promptly got lost, because all the doors were locked, as this was an evening appointment.  Wandering around this big imposing agricultural structure at nighttime with a letter in one hand, and a book bag in the other, and hopelessly looking for a door to be open, glancing at the time every two seconds just knowing I would be late, I got more and more nervous about this intersection of my life.  Finally a security guard opened a door and kindly asked what we were doing.  I guess we didn’t look like the typical hoodlums out to rob or vandalize the place.

“I’m here for an MRI.”  I said.

“At night?”  He looked confused.

“I have a letter, it says p.m., not a.m.”

“Ok, well I’ll radio in and see.”  He radioed in and sure enough it was p.m.

We were let in the door, walked to the sign directing up the MRI department and took elevator down to the basement, we followed a dark unlit corridor, turned a corner and it was like daytime.  A quaint little reception area greeted us, with nurses, doctors, comfortable chairs, and a TV.  I filled in the forms, went to the bathroom (which I was in the habit of doing 20 times or more, a day by then).

I changed into jogging pants and a t-shirt, with no metal in them, in the changing rooms provided.  I placed the clothes I had been wearing in a locker, and sat in the waiting room and thought and prayed while my mother watched CSI.  When I was called I gave my mother my locker room key, my watch, and my metal-framed glasses.

I followed a friendly nurse through two doors that said “no metal beyond this point”, and answered the same questions about metal that I was asked on the phone.  I assumed they really want to make sure you don’t bring metal into the MRI room.  But, there was no explanation as to the reason.  Although I tried to do research in what to expect in having an MRI, there wasn’t much out there.

Finally, I was escorted into the MRI room.  The MRI itself is a huge tube with a table that goes through it.  I lay on the table, as instructed.  My head was locked in place with a frame that fit perfectly around my checks, forehead, and chin.  I was given headphones and asked what kind of music I liked to listen to.  A pillow was placed under my knees.  A tube with a button was placed in my hand and I was told I could push it if I had problems.  Staring at the ceiling I waited while others in the room worked around me.  And then I was asked if I was ok.  “Yes”.

“Ok, now the table will slide into the machine.  You will hear three sets of noises and quite. Then you will be done.”

The table was slid into the machine.  Music filled my ears.  I wondered why they made the music so loud, but I quickly understood for it was interrupted by a terrible banging racket, like someone was pounding on the side of the machine with a jackhammer.  Yet the noise was muffled like the jackhammer was mumbling.  I almost couldn’t hear the music.  I listened to the music, prayed, and counted the sets of noises and silences.  I tried not to move, not to breath, not to look around, for I knew I wasn’t allowed to.  On my first MRI I was successful.

With my second MRI I was unsuccessful at not moving.  I moved my eyes too much.  I think I actually fell asleep and that I was dreaming with Rapid Eye Movement.  And as this was an MRI where the contrast medium was injected into my body there was more sets of noise and silence.  As my eyes had moved they had to do 5 sets of noises and quite because two of the sets weren’t useful to them.  It’s very hard to not move when you concentrate on not moving or when you fall asleep, but I found that it’s easier to not move when you concentrate on something else.

Thirty minutes later, when it was done, I felt my table being pulled from the machine.  My head was released from its trap.  I sat up, was told my doctor would have the results in 2 weeks.

Two weeks later I phoned the doctor’s receptionist and asked for the results.  She told me I had to come in for an appointment because she couldn’t give me the results over the phone.

I made an appointment, and saw the doctor two months later.

Caitlynne