Still grounded

 Tomorrow morning (at the buttcrack of dawn, might I add) is my MRI. For those of you scratching your heads, my bad. "Let me sum up," as Inigo Montoya says. I need to back up a bit.

*beep beep beep beep*

Last Monday I had the EEG and was to have the neurology appointment directly afterwards. However, the neurologist had a family emergency so my appointment got punted to Tuesday afternoon.

After he listened to my story of why I was there, as if he didn't already know, he told me that the EEG looked normal. Yay! I have a brain! Shush, Hinrew. Then he said something a little discomfiting; "however, small things can hide in an EEG so I want you to have an MRI. If things look fine from there, I'll check on you in four months. My gut feeling is that we do not need to put you on anti seizure medicine as that would be life long and has serious side effects."

Um, yikes?

My husband, the engineer, growled afterwards, "if the MRI is the definitive test, why did they order an EEG instead of an MRI?" Good question. Nurse Lisa told me over the phone, and I could hear the groan and the roll of her eyes as she explained, that insurance companies most likely won't cover an MRI unless an EEG is done first, even though it's dumb because if they just did the MRI they'd have the results they were looking for instead of now paying for two tests. Which is pretty much what my mother had texted me as well.

So, tomorrow morning I am signed up for an MRI with and without contrast. I know I've had one of these before, but it's kind of a blur. The tech asked over the phone if I was claustrophobic so I'm going with they're sticking me in some kind of tube. Good news is I'm allowed to eat and drink normally beforehand, no fasting, yay. Undecided news is the "with contrast" part... I can't remember if I only have to drink that or if that's through an IV or both. Less yay. Not gonna get fussed about it, though. Not worth it.

I also will need to ask if the results get read by the neurologist and if his office will let me know what it said or if I need to call them, or what. I was told not to drive until the results of the EEG were in, and I was a good girl and didn't, though I've discovered as a 44-year-old woman what it feels like to be grounded. Not a fan! Very inconvenient, even during a pandemic when events and activity levels are much decreased. Grr. Then he ordered the MRI and said to not drive for another week, maybe two to three weeks, something about six months at which point my non existent eyebrows shot right off of my head. I hope he was kidding, cuz man, that ain't happening. I am going with a week as that's what he said first. So there. 

Tuesday I also saw my oncologist who went over all my numbers and pronounced everything perfect. So good, in fact, that she doesn't need to see me for six months, so I won't have to head down there at all this winter, wahoo! She also felt I was good to drive and that the troublesome fainting episode was simply a reaction to the blood draw.  She went so far as to make a note in my chart that I will be reclining for future blood draws. Nurse Lisa approves, as per her "for the love of all that is holy... would you please make sure they lay you down for blood draws!!!" Favorite doctor ever. Teehee.

So as you roll over and hit the alarm for the day or as you roll over and go back to sleep tomorrow around 6:45, send a prayer or a good thought that the MRI finds nothing more than a small sign etched onto my brain reading, "STOP JABBING MY HOST!" Thanks a bunch! Have a great week!

Stealing lines from fictional characters

"Ain't often you see a guy that green have the blues that bad..." muses Rowlf the Dog about Kermit the Frog after they finish singing "I Hope That Something Better Comes Along." At least, that's how it went on the tiny little record (!) my parents used to let me play. The other side featured, of course, "Rainbow Connection." 

I've been feeling greener around the gills than usual these last few days and once again it is hard to determine what is psychosomatic versus what is really happening. Am I greener because it's back to school and I'm now inundated with three buildings' worth of germs? Am I greener because "it's cumulative"- probably my most hated words at this point- and I'm full of chemicals I need to continue to flush out? Am I finally just worn down enough that the smells of grease from yummy bacon are overwhelming? Does it perhaps not help that Bosley ate one of Liam's pink erasers yesterday and then threw up his breakfast? Well, perhaps we all know the answer to that one... Ick.

At any rate, can we get a big hoorah that chemo is over?!

I continue to be struck by how closely my time in chemo resembles pregnancy. I'm probably beating a dead horse, but the smells/odors/aromas and the brain fog/tiredness are especially rough. I have no problem sitting down with a good book, but to be told repeatedly to behave myself and be still and let my body heal is hard. I'm an impatient patient. All I can hear is Inigo Montoya: I hate waiting. 

But that's where I am right now, in a season of waiting. I have to wait for my numbers to come back up before surgery. I have to wait for my kids to get on the bus and then off of the bus. I have to wait in lines, for replies, for the bus to get here so that one kid can turn around and hop in the car of a friend who's helping get said kid to the next destination, for bedtime, for the microwave to beep or the toaster oven to ding, for the surgeon's office to call me back, for a turn in the bathroom (and never mind that we have more than one). 

I still hate waiting.

I remember being told during each pregnancy to be good to myself and to not do too much because I was growing a human being and all that. It's still waiting. And boy, was that waiting. Waiting to see who each child would become. Waiting to see if they were healthy. Waiting to see the gender of our third child. Waiting is work. Waiting can make you feel like you're going crazy.