How I got here from there. Part 5

I had to cancel my son's 5th birthday party. That was heartbreaking for me. He didn't seem to mind very much... it bothered me way more than it did him. My son is some sort of Lego prodigy. At 5 he can do sets way beyond his age level and can copy just about anything he sees a picture of; his own designs rival those of 13 and 14-year-olds that I see on the Lego website. We were going to have a Lego party, complete with a cake shaped like a huge Lego. I was so sick I could barely walk 5 or 6 steps without gasping for air. Instead we had a small "party" that night with Lee, Linda and Daddy, with a few new Lego sets and a store bought cake. My son was thrilled.

The pneumonia is gone; thanks to some Native American tea that Linda got for me... actually picked fresh from a river bank. A few days of guzzling that and coughing finally kicked it. But I didn't realize that the pleural effusion was creeping back and blocking my breathing again. The breathing problem was so bad I couldn't lie on my back and could only sleep in a strange contorted position on my left side, piled up with pillows. Even then I only slept a few hours at a time.

The day before my scheduled MRI I got a phone call from a very nice woman named Wanda. She introduced herself as my "breast care manager"... huh? My breasts have their own manager now? Man, my mind went soaring about how nice it would be if all my parts had their own "manager"... and don't even get me started on the goofiness of that title. Remember, my breasts always entered a room before I did. I was fully aware that a lot of the attention I had received as a woman was because of my cartoon sized breasts... and now finally they had their own manager! Tah dah!

Wanda was very nice, informative and willing to help with anything I needed. I asked her to meet me the next day when I had to go in for my MRI. Or I should call it the torture device... ugh. That was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever tolerated. It seems easy when you see it on TV right? But when you have breast cancer you have to lie on your stomach and they drop your breasts into these holes... your head goes in this cup like thing and your arms above your head. Then you have to lie really still for nearly an hour... OMG.

Wanda was different than I had pictured her. She came and said "hello" while I was waiting to be called for my MRI. She is one of those really thin women with short hair that wears keys around her neck. Hyper efficient and so nice. I suppose it takes a special person to be a "breast care manager."

Kay had come with me that day. For those of you who don't know Kay—you should. She is one of the funnest people I know. She was my father's "girlfriend" and has become my son's grandmother and a second Mom to me. I love her more than you can imagine. Her humor and attitude got me through the day.

They finally called my name and took me back. I changed into scrubs, which was new to me, but okay. They sort of size you up to give you the right size. They are pretty good at it. I was comfortable. Then they lead you back to the radioactive area... that's an odd feeling. Seeing all those "radioactive" signs posted all over. Then they show you the device. It doesn't look that bad. But I hated it the minute I laid down on it. It hurt like hell. I complained and the technician changed to a "more comfortable" one... like, why didn't you give me the "more comfortable" one in the first place? Duh? The more comfortable one wasn't much better. I hurt.

Once they get you positioned on this strange contraption, the machine moves you into the MRI. Once you are fully inside, the technician comes around to the other opening to hook you up to an IV. The IV shoots, whatever it is that makes the images appear, into your arm. It's an odd sensation as it goes in because it is very cold and you feel the coldness go from your arm throughout your body.

I was in pain. I could barely breathe. I just kept telling myself that I could get through it. The idea of having to start over was a big motivator. They put headphones on you, but they are pointless. The machine is so loud you can't hear them. I never want to have an MRI again.

At the end of the MRI I actually pushed the panic button. They give you a button to push if for some reason you can't deal with it any more and need to stop the test. I found out that they really don't like it when you do this... but I could tell it was the end of the test because the pounding noise had finally stopped and the technician wasn't rushing in to let me out. So I pushed it. She calmly asked what was wrong. I said "are you finished?" She said "yes, I am just looking over the ...." I interrupted her and said "I can't breathe". Wow that got her running in fast. She pulled out the IV and the machine shot me out. I sat up and coughed while she looked over her results.

I got dressed and was happy to see Kay waiting when I walked out. It was a ridiculously windy day and we both giggled as we struggled to get to my car. The tumor board was going to meet the next morning...

One day this summer I am going to have that Lego party for my son. Complete with Lego cake and Legos.

The breast MRI machine...modern torture device.