M.R.I

M.R.I

My mum lost her hearing in one of her ears a few years ago and the doctors never knew what caused it. She was booked in for an M.R.I scan, but ended up not going through with it saying she felt too frightened and claustrophobic. I told her she was being ridiculous, that if its going to help, well she should just bloody do it.

Mere hours after my own M.R.I, I phoned to apologise to her. I now understood exactly what she meant.

The nurses told me to remove all jewellery, piercings and kirbies (bobby pins).Simple right? Not for me. I have a…lets say..intimate piercing that is impossible to remove on my own. I sheepishly explained this and was told that I might need to go home as the piercings can “explode” and rip out whatever part of the body it’s attached to. Then another nurse came, handed me a magnet and told me to hold it against my..well, my coochie… to see if the piercing was magnetised. It wasn’t, so she said I would be safe to go in and there would be no exploding vaginas to worry about!

I put on my gown and answered some basic health and safety questions, then was warned that the IV buscopan that I was about to receive might make my vision blurred, and that on rare occasions, tattoos can heat  excessively during an MRI, and if this happens I should push the buzzer and they’ll take me out. So now I’m worried about going blind, having exploding genitals and burning from the inside out. Great. What a morning.

I lay on the bed thing, and 2 boards were placed on top of me and fastened to the bed so that my arms were trapped by my side, rendering me unable to move. I was told I’d be lying under the machine for an hour. An HOUR! As I started to be moved in, I immediately knew what my mum meant – it was horrible. I felt trapped and couldn’t see anything around me apart from the white machine.. They gave me earphones, but it was impossible to concentrate on the music over the hums, and beeps and murmurs of the machine.

About 30mins in, I needed to sneeze. Shit. I’m not supposed to move in here right? It came and went twice, until I couldn’t stop it. Twice. Two sneezes! I tried to stifle it, which only resulted in my eyes watering. I could feel a small steady stream of tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t life my arm to wipe it. Uhoh, now my nose was running. Bogies slowly dripped down my face. Oh god, its going in my mouth, its going in my mouth. I turned my head ever so slightly to try send the snotters off course. Result! They bypassed my mouth and continued rolling down my chin and on to my neck. Crap, there goes my eyes again. More tears were coming. My face was a soggy mess and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Finally, the murmurs stopped and I started to move backwards. The nurses appeared and unstrapped the boards. I could finally lift my hands and wipe my wet, snotter soaked face. It was over.

Or was it? Maybe that was that the easy part?

 

 

Appointment with the NHS

Appointment with the NHS

I’ve spoken briefly about my frustration with the NHS in relation to my miscarriages and I think I should be more specific. Its mainly at my local GP’S attitude and staff than aren’t directly involved with my history. And I tend to be constantly angry at the R.A.H hospital by how I was treated by them during my 1st miscarriage at 21. (See my post ‘guilt’ for more detail on that one)

I had my appointment at the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital  (Southern general – it’ll always be southern general to me)

Anyway.. the doctor and sister that seen me today were fantastic. I’d already met the sister when I was in for tests around 9months ago (9months,  how horrendously ironic). They were both so understanding and sympathetic.  I wasnt patronised or made to feel like it wasnt a big deal. They were genuine.  And while I cried at least 4 times, I left feeling better… feeling listened to.

I never had further tests done as everything that could be tested already has been. Everything is negative. Or positive. I dunno.. it’s a good result. I’m basically a picture of health. I’ve just been unlucky. Three times.
Part of me hoped there was something – at least that way it could be treated. But I was assured that medically speaking its better this way.

The advice was just to keep trying. Stay positive. Do everything I’m already doing. It’s hard to see the light sometimes but I am going to keep going. I’ve only been fighting for a year and I know some of you have been fighting much longer. Your strength helps me keep going.

If anyone is delaying the tests, or scared to go for fear of discovering something they didn’t want to know – just go. The worst is fear of the unknown. Once you have some kind of answer, you can start to move on. I’m still going to feel like shit every now and then, I’m still going to be angry and frustrated. I’ll 100% still cry. But I’ll know that there’s nothing more I can or could ever have done. I know that when it’s my time.. I’ll have my baby.

(At least that’s the positivity I’m trying to lead with today!)