Seems fitting that today is the 12th and I’m writing on the January 12th. Today was the worst day ever since I found out I have breast cancer. Why? I’ll tell you why. Today I had a fun little test that was called a breast MRI. For those of you that don’t know, an MRI is when you get an iv, get stuck in a tube and have to lay still while there is banging and pounding around you for around 30 minutes
MRI Hell
Now a regular MRI can be rather hellish, but a breast MRI is the most hellacious thing ever invented, second only to the mammogram. First of course the struggled to find a vein, but they did so yippee. Now for a breast MRI, you lay face down and your boobs hang down through holes in the table. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the kids song, “Do Your Ears Hang Low,” but let me tell you, all I could sing in my head was :
Do my boobs hang low
Do they wobble to and fro
Man you tie them in a not
Can you tie them in a bow.
There is also a cutout for your face, kind of like on a massage table, emphasis on kind of, and you have to lay with your arms extended above your head.
The Hell continues
Now I am not, nor have I ever been, a stomach sleeper, so this position was incredibly uncomfortable for me. Add to that, the nice little cut out for my face was not, lined in terry cloth or any type of material, no it was plastic. So there I am, laying on my belly with my boobs hanging down through a hole in the table with my face resting on hot, hot plastic and the banging and buzzing begins. For 45 freaking minutes. I have experienced hell and I have lived to talk about it. I swear to all that is holy, I am going to insist that they cut both my boobs off because I never, ever, EVER want to go through something like that again. If there is hell on Earth, it is found in an MRI machine.
More Waiting
And so I wait, and wait and wait and wait until the 16th when I meet with the surgeon. Twin A and Twin B are going with me. I figure they need to hear everything the doctor says. Also they have questions and I think it’s better for them to ask the doctor and hear the answers than for me to ask their questions and relay the answers. But on a happier note, no more waiting for my brca gene test. It came back negative. Again, I knew that, but still, it’s more reassuring to hear about it from a medical lab versus 23 and me.
