One more test

Nothing about medical care runs on a well defined schedule. I was only to have a few tests last week and then, if all was good, proceed with the process of re-introducing my stem cells back to me. Apparently, one of those tests showed some odd activity in my brain, the left cerebellum to be exact.

Now, my sisters and a few close friends would not be surprised by the odd activity – it is probably just activity in the area of my brain from which my odd sense of humor emanates. Nonetheless, the doctor wanted me to have an MRI of my brain.

I went to the hospital here in Lincoln for the MRI. They took me into a cold room. What’s with these cold hospital rooms? They laid me down on a narrow, cold slide and gave me ear plugs. As one technician put a pillow under my knees and asked if I wanted a blanket, the other had me lay my head in a narrow cradle, stuffed towels on each side, strapped my head down and slid a cage type device over my head. Talk about confining and all of this is before they put me in the “tube”.

“Are you relaxed?” Oh sure. I closed my eyes and as the slide lifted me up and began to move me into the tube the technician held my arms to my side so I would fit inside. Once inside the tube she told me I could move my arms to a comfortable position. “Where exactly is that comfortable position?” I wondered. My shoulders are pressed against the sides of the tube. I don’t dare open my eyes because I am certain my nose is almost touching the top of the tube and I’d go cross-eyed. So I ever so gently folded my hands together just below my waist and waited.

Then it began. The whirling and clanging of the magnets or whatever is inside those MRI machines started up. I kept my eyes closed, tried to meditate.  Once in awhile I got into the rhythm of the clanging – maybe the musical group “Stomp” could explore those rhythms?

Thirty minutes later the technician ejected me from the MRI machine and, you guessed it, injected a contrast dye into my veins. “Remember to drink lots of water when you get home,” he advised. I am still floating from the last series of tests! Then back into the tube for another eight minutes.

I don’t have the results of the brain scan. Hopefully, no news is good news at this point. I am visiting with my doctor in Omaha on Wednesday so I will find out the “skinny” on all the tests at that meeting.

Onward we go one step closer towards meeting my harvested stem cells. “Onward!” I say, “Onward!”

Grace and peace,
Tim.