(In case you were wondering, I made up that word. Well, maybe someone else did, first, but I’m certain it is in no dictionary.)
Monday I went in for my two year brain MRI (with contrast!). It’s Thursday now and I haven’t heard anything yet. I’ll take that as a good sign.
I would have never guessed it, though, by the way the MRI tech (or whatever the be-scrubbed folks are called that prep you for the tube) was acting. She was distant, perhaps even crabby. I’m one of those insane people who tries to guess by nurse’s/assistant’s/tech’s mannerisms whether or not I should be worried.
I really need to stop doing that. It doesn’t serve me well. I’m lousy at reading people.
Anyway, I had sinus pressure and a blazing headache to match that day. Preexisting sinuses plus MRI plus headache plus crabby nurse equals a pretty nerve wracking day. Unfortunately, I forgot my saline and ibuprofen at home, so I had to deal. Fortunately, when I finally got home, ibuprofen eliminated any discomfort. Well, that and taking the freaking five inch piece of (what seemed the equivalent of string packaging) tape off of my injection site. Seriously, why? It’s a blessed little poke! Give me a Scooby Doo Band-Aid and I’ll be on my way.
I had worried the ibuprofen wouldn’t work. It had stopped working well before my diagnosis.
I hate it when my head hurts for any reason. I don’t even allow myself the luxury of a normal headache anymore. How can I?
Approaching my two year visit with my neurosurgeon, I realize I have to start dealing with some stuff. Maybe not this go-round – I don’t know if I’ll be brave enough- but at some point I know I’ll have to ask him again to tell me what type of tumor I had (have). I wish you could just look up positive stories about a thing, without finding a bunch of negative ‘she had a recurrence and fought hard, but she died anyway’ types.
That’s what I’m afraid of. Not the type or the word. Not of how to better be able to cope with it. I’m afraid that maybe I’m being too positive about it all, too oblivious. Currently, my state of not knowing -some would call it denial- is serving me well, although I find myself wanting to learn more.
Ick. I’ll probably just sit in the room, wait for him to tell me what’s what, fade in and out of paying close attention as I need to, and then zip out of that place post-haste.
Prism Balance: My Pile of Good Things 