-at the University of Chicago Hospitals-
Contemplation of life...
...what you do when you slide into the tube of an MRI machine--and what you do as the extreme noise pongs around you.
Having visited my upper extremity orthopedic surgeon (the one I have named, Dr. Hope, and the one who has previously performed at least eight surgeries on my hands and wrists,) I found myself heading to the radiology department of a major university hospital.
My elbow and shoulder had each received several cortisone injections for pain over the years, and finally the decision was made to have MRIs to visualize the ligaments and tendons in the two areas, and to pinpoint any problems.
In the past I have endured an endless number of medical tests, and having an MRI was no "big deal" in my mind, considering all that I have gone through before.
My first MRI, about ten years ago, was to rule out MS. Another MRI was to rule out a brain tumor. So this elbow and shoulder scan produced a relatively low anxiety level, however it was the end of a busy day and I was ready to get the tests over with and begin my one hour drive home from the city.
A person called me back into the department and told me that things were backed up (a phrase I have heard way to often during my misadventures). He showed me where to change and then directed me to another waiting area.
I filled out the MRI form given me, and could check "yes" to only one of the questions. Yes, I did have metal implants in two of my joints. Fortunately I could check "no" to having clips in my heart, shrapnel anywhere in my body and tattoos, also, anywhere on my body.
After a waiting period of fifteen minutes or so, I was met by a young man who was going to perform the scans. He handed me ear plugs, which continually fell out of my ears during the following two hours, and were more of a nusiance than a noise filter. He then wrapped my elbow while I kept my arm at my side. (He had already asked me to move over, and I complied--as best I could--without falling off that narrow sliding table.)
The test began. It lasted one hour, during which time the man, Mr. Uncertain, spoke to me only once. If my elbow had been mildly sore at the beginning of the hour, it was now extremely sore after having to hold it in the same rotated position for that length of time. As I exited the tube, I told Mr. Uncertain that I was surprised the test had taken so long, to which he replied, "Well, I couldn't get a good picture."
(If you have had a chance to read the seventeen chapters of my Medical Misadventure stories you will know that nothing, absolutely nothing, surprises me when I enter the medical realm.)
He then went on to say, "We will try it again after we finish the shoulder scans." What did you say--my mind was just absorbing this new information--I had undergone that hour of pounding life contemplation for nothing
The shoulder scan was straight forward as a specific cone (molded form) was made just for shoulder MRIs. I placed my arm through the hole provided and once again lay down on my back. The test took about twenty minutes.
Mr. Uncertain asked if I was up to trying the elbow again. Well, what could I say? I did not want to have to return and start over and so I complied. This time however I was to lie on my stomach with my sore arm extended in front of me inside the shoulder cone. Yes, as one might imagine, it was uncomfortable. I endured fifteen minutes in this position, only to be informed that once again the scans were not satisfactory.
The young man tried three additional poses, moving me in and out of the MRI tunnel each time and repositioning the arm. He mentioned that I must think he does not know how to do an elbow scan. He said that there was no protocol for this test. I find his excuse highly unlikely.
Once he had attempted capturing the scan which was needed, he still told me that none of the elbow pictures were adequate. Once again mentioning the necessity of a return visit, I finally spoke up. "What will change if I return?" I queried. He replied that GE, the maker of the machine, would have to come and look things over. In other words, he was blaming the machine.
By then I felt that the machine had done nothing wrong, but Mr. Uncertain was the culprit.
Fortunately a radiologist came along at just the right moment and reviewed the test results
saying that he thought they were adequate.
I see Dr. Hope in just a few more days at which time we will discuss the results. I may just tell him about Mr. Uncertain, as he and I have long discussed the quality of this big university hospital with the quality of my hometown hospital--where bad things have happened to me. Of course, at my hometown hospital there are fake blue skies with white clouds in a lighted mural on the ceiling in the MRI suite. It makes the going in and the going out part of an MRI a bit less stressful...and the tech there actually stays in contact with the patient through a microphone system.
Medical misadventures have been a constant for me during the past ten years...but I have lived nonetheless--a feat I can only attribute to the Lord.
Smile.
...what you do when you slide into the tube of an MRI machine--and what you do as the extreme noise pongs around you.
Having visited my upper extremity orthopedic surgeon (the one I have named, Dr. Hope, and the one who has previously performed at least eight surgeries on my hands and wrists,) I found myself heading to the radiology department of a major university hospital.
My elbow and shoulder had each received several cortisone injections for pain over the years, and finally the decision was made to have MRIs to visualize the ligaments and tendons in the two areas, and to pinpoint any problems.
In the past I have endured an endless number of medical tests, and having an MRI was no "big deal" in my mind, considering all that I have gone through before.
My first MRI, about ten years ago, was to rule out MS. Another MRI was to rule out a brain tumor. So this elbow and shoulder scan produced a relatively low anxiety level, however it was the end of a busy day and I was ready to get the tests over with and begin my one hour drive home from the city.
A person called me back into the department and told me that things were backed up (a phrase I have heard way to often during my misadventures). He showed me where to change and then directed me to another waiting area.
I filled out the MRI form given me, and could check "yes" to only one of the questions. Yes, I did have metal implants in two of my joints. Fortunately I could check "no" to having clips in my heart, shrapnel anywhere in my body and tattoos, also, anywhere on my body.
After a waiting period of fifteen minutes or so, I was met by a young man who was going to perform the scans. He handed me ear plugs, which continually fell out of my ears during the following two hours, and were more of a nusiance than a noise filter. He then wrapped my elbow while I kept my arm at my side. (He had already asked me to move over, and I complied--as best I could--without falling off that narrow sliding table.)
The test began. It lasted one hour, during which time the man, Mr. Uncertain, spoke to me only once. If my elbow had been mildly sore at the beginning of the hour, it was now extremely sore after having to hold it in the same rotated position for that length of time. As I exited the tube, I told Mr. Uncertain that I was surprised the test had taken so long, to which he replied, "Well, I couldn't get a good picture."
(If you have had a chance to read the seventeen chapters of my Medical Misadventure stories you will know that nothing, absolutely nothing, surprises me when I enter the medical realm.)
He then went on to say, "We will try it again after we finish the shoulder scans." What did you say--my mind was just absorbing this new information--I had undergone that hour of pounding life contemplation for nothing
The shoulder scan was straight forward as a specific cone (molded form) was made just for shoulder MRIs. I placed my arm through the hole provided and once again lay down on my back. The test took about twenty minutes.
Mr. Uncertain asked if I was up to trying the elbow again. Well, what could I say? I did not want to have to return and start over and so I complied. This time however I was to lie on my stomach with my sore arm extended in front of me inside the shoulder cone. Yes, as one might imagine, it was uncomfortable. I endured fifteen minutes in this position, only to be informed that once again the scans were not satisfactory.
The young man tried three additional poses, moving me in and out of the MRI tunnel each time and repositioning the arm. He mentioned that I must think he does not know how to do an elbow scan. He said that there was no protocol for this test. I find his excuse highly unlikely.
Once he had attempted capturing the scan which was needed, he still told me that none of the elbow pictures were adequate. Once again mentioning the necessity of a return visit, I finally spoke up. "What will change if I return?" I queried. He replied that GE, the maker of the machine, would have to come and look things over. In other words, he was blaming the machine.
By then I felt that the machine had done nothing wrong, but Mr. Uncertain was the culprit.
Fortunately a radiologist came along at just the right moment and reviewed the test results
saying that he thought they were adequate.
I see Dr. Hope in just a few more days at which time we will discuss the results. I may just tell him about Mr. Uncertain, as he and I have long discussed the quality of this big university hospital with the quality of my hometown hospital--where bad things have happened to me. Of course, at my hometown hospital there are fake blue skies with white clouds in a lighted mural on the ceiling in the MRI suite. It makes the going in and the going out part of an MRI a bit less stressful...and the tech there actually stays in contact with the patient through a microphone system.
Medical misadventures have been a constant for me during the past ten years...but I have lived nonetheless--a feat I can only attribute to the Lord.
Smile.
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