It’s almost 12 months since I had my last MRI scan. 12 months since I was shown the cross section of my brain with the lighter grey patches. And 12 months since I was told I had MS.
On the one hand that feels like a very long time ago. A lot has happened since then and MS has become part of my everyday life, objectified by my daily use of the bingo dabber for the last 6 months.
On the other hand, the last 12 months have flown by and, fortunately, nothing has really changed MS-wise. The pins and needles are the same as they were a year ago and there certainly hasn’t been any deterioration in how I am or how I feel.
But whilst there haven’t been any outward changes I am very curious to know whether the same can be said for inside my head. My consultant agreed when I last saw him. He said that a further MRI scan now would serve as a useful comparison with the scan from last autumn. Plus, apparently the injections reach maximum effectiveness after 6 months and so it would be useful to see what they were upto.
And so last Tuesday I had another MRI scan.
The first thing of interest was that my appointment was a 7 o’clock in the evening. I, of course, thought this was marvellous as it meant that I did not have to take any time off work. My friend, of course, said that I was the only person in the world who would be glad not to have to take time off work and so I was therefore mad. Whichever was you look at it, for all the criticism of the NHS, it just shows how hard they are infact working and made me re-address my feeling that as soon as you have something wrong with you the expectation is that you cannot hold down a responsible job….
That said I seemed to be the only person in the radiology unit at Hope Hospital last Tuesday evening. Apart from the receptionist who chatted on the telephone for the whole time I was there save only for stopping to draw breath and ask me for my name. And apart from the lady who came out into the waiting room and asked me whether I was there for a scan. I tried to think of some witty ironic reply given I was the only patient sat in the MRI scan waiting room at 7pm on a Tuesday evening and as lovely as that was, it wasn’t my idea of a good night out … but my lesioned brain failed me and the only response I could come up with at short notice was a rather predictable …. ‘yes’.
The scan itself was pretty much the same as the others I have had. They don’t bother me as much as they used to but I still don’t understand why they have to be so loud. It’s like being in a cement mixer with a load of spanners and a really stinking gin-fuelled hangover.
A while ago I met a lady who told me about the time she’d had an MRI scan. She had removed all metal as is compulsory because of the magnetic thingys … her jewellery, her bra and so on and had the scan. It was only when the radiographer emerged very concerned as to why the scans were black that she remembered the piercings in her, erm, lady area. There then followed a hunt in the hospital for a pair of pliers in order that she could remove them and have a successful scan….
Luckily my scan passed without any such embarrassment. Although exactly what is going on up there remains an unanswered question until ‘results day’ next month…