Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Not Morg or Imorg
Today I feel like my own brain has been swiped.
I needed to have an MRI of my lower spine. In light of one of my complaints to Lita, she consulted with Dr. Hayes and wondered if there might be irritation of the nerve bundles in my lower spine, which has quite a bit of metastatic damage. Apparently, "irritated nerve bundles" can cause wacky symptoms that don't seem to have anything to do with the back. So U of M scheduled me for an MRI on October 10.
At 2:40 a.m.
That is not a typo.
Brian and I slogged out of bed and to the car at 1:45ish, and we got there slightly before 2:30. We weren't sure if we were supposed to park in the structure or use the ER parking valet, or what. We parked in what is the most poorly arranged parking structure ever, and then walked the loooong walk to the east elevators.
Having an MRI involves contrast dye, which the technician said was water soluble. I asked if they could inject it through a port, since it wasn't iodine contrast. "Yes," she said, "Is your port accessed? I don't have a nurse here at night so we can't access ports."
Great. So because of the asinine scheduling, I had to endure being stabbed three times, once in the crook of the arm (vein was too deep) and twice in the leathery scar-laden veins on my hand. People always think my hand veins are going to be good. They are mistaken.
We got home at five. I got up at eight to come to work. I am cranky and disoriented; a bad combination. I have bags.
Grrr.
I needed to have an MRI of my lower spine. In light of one of my complaints to Lita, she consulted with Dr. Hayes and wondered if there might be irritation of the nerve bundles in my lower spine, which has quite a bit of metastatic damage. Apparently, "irritated nerve bundles" can cause wacky symptoms that don't seem to have anything to do with the back. So U of M scheduled me for an MRI on October 10.
At 2:40 a.m.
That is not a typo.
Brian and I slogged out of bed and to the car at 1:45ish, and we got there slightly before 2:30. We weren't sure if we were supposed to park in the structure or use the ER parking valet, or what. We parked in what is the most poorly arranged parking structure ever, and then walked the loooong walk to the east elevators.
Having an MRI involves contrast dye, which the technician said was water soluble. I asked if they could inject it through a port, since it wasn't iodine contrast. "Yes," she said, "Is your port accessed? I don't have a nurse here at night so we can't access ports."
Great. So because of the asinine scheduling, I had to endure being stabbed three times, once in the crook of the arm (vein was too deep) and twice in the leathery scar-laden veins on my hand. People always think my hand veins are going to be good. They are mistaken.
We got home at five. I got up at eight to come to work. I am cranky and disoriented; a bad combination. I have bags.
Grrr.
Labels: Brian, Dr. Hayes, hospital, injection, Lita, MRI, port
Comments:
Just found your blog. I have StageIV met. bone disease as well. Came back 10 years after original cancer.
What's funny about finding your blog is that after a hellacious day at the hospital yesterday (concerning Power Port) I decided that it was time to start journaling this crap. When searching for info on the port, Google pulled up your blog.
Go figure.
What's funny about finding your blog is that after a hellacious day at the hospital yesterday (concerning Power Port) I decided that it was time to start journaling this crap. When searching for info on the port, Google pulled up your blog.
Go figure.
Did you have problems with port insertion? I hope some day they can put a power port in the arm so I no longer have to get IVs for the iodine dye. I refuse to have my chest further mutilated...
Best wishes,
Janet
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Best wishes,
Janet
