I’ve broken my own rule that I have been so adamant about with my parents – if they are sick, or end up at the doctors or hospital for ANY reason, I want to know about it immediately – even if things are unknown. All too often I’ve found out after the fact that, “Oh, I went to the ER on Friday and they kept me in for a few days. I’m home now, it was nothing serious.” Being far away from both parents makes this very very unsettling.
So my dad has been very forth-coming with telling me about the current issues he is having with his noggin. Since he has the trump card on brain issues, I failed to tell him that I have been having headaches for well over a month and, after seeing my family doctor, I was referred to a neurologist.
Today was said neurologist appointment and after some questions, a brief exam that involved me walking a line similar to what I’ve seen cops do to DUI people on TV, neuro doc said he didn’t even think my headaches were migraines. He explained that it could have started off as tension headaches, and by self-medicating like I normally would with a headache, I could have given myself an adverse effect and tossed ‘rebound’ headaches on top of tension. Just to be safe – for my own peace of mind, because I’m young, and because of dad’s noggin (which he said wouldn’t be hereditary), he said he would order an MRI.
I walked down the hall to the imaging office and they had an opening for the test today. I texted my boss to change my half day to a full day, grabbed some lunch, went back to the imaging office and knit for an hour or so in the waiting room. While waiting, I struck up a conversation with a woman whose husband was getting a bone scan. When I told her I was having an MRI she shuddered a little and said, “oof. Have fun with that.” To which I replied, “Well, I’ve had a CT scan before… can’t be much different, can it?” She started to talk and I said, “You know what? Tell me about it afterwards.” Of course, she was long gone by the time I came out of the MRI, but I sort of get what she might have “oof”-ed about.
Your head? It’s strapped to the table. The machine? It’s loud as all get out. My dad had told me when he had his MRI they played music in the background. I was not asked about music, nor would I have been able to hear a darn bit of it. At one point, I started counting the clicks and beeps – I might have dozed off even, but then a very loud beep made me jump a little. Worried if I pressed the button to get me out of there, or even that my jump would have screwed things up, I tried to just keep breathing and reminded myself it would all be over soon.
And I silently laughed that for someone who was having chronic headaches, the Rx of putting said person in a large, loud machine was just oh-so-rich.
Anyhow, I made it through the scan. I asked the tech if I could take a look at my noggin. He said sure, but that he couldn’t comment on what he saw, other than to point out that I did, in fact, have a brain in my head. I told him that my mother would be pleased to know that it really exists!
A few hours later I got a call from the neurologist and he said everything on the MRI was fine – my brain is clean. There is nothing physically wrong up there. Which means that the headaches I’ve been sporting for well over a month are probably being caused by one teeny, tiny little thing.
What a motherfucker.
PS – I sort of wish I had seen this video BEFORE the MRI experience… but, it does totally explain how it all goes down in a non-threatening fashion.