Mom: If you’re reading this first, I’m sending you an email as well. My international calling card only has 3 minutes left on it & I’ll have to get it recharged before I can give you a call. But I love you & will call as soon as I can. And don’t worry Mom, I’ll be ok.

What follows is rather long. But I’m documenting this more for me right now and I’m sorry for the lengthy, picture-less post.

So. Without further ado…

= Mr. Wizard & the Whiz-Bang Machine =

Having never had an MRI before, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

I knew I’d be crammed in a tube – but that was about it – and my Korean radiologist, while friendly, wasn’t overly helpful.

“Test takes 45 minutes. Veree inpotant – do no move. Would have to start oh-veh.
Veree inpotant – do no move.”

So I stripped myself of every article of clothing & piece of metal to put on the lovely sterilized cotton number provided to me.

He wrapped me up, pinned me in, gave me ear plugs & shouted,

“Veree inpotant – NO MOVE!”

Got it, Scooter – No move.

So he cranked me in, I shut my eyes & imagined clear blue skies, expansive beaches & verdant green islands as I felt the walls begin to close in around me.

I was afraid I might panic because I can get a little claustrophobic from time to time. But I was able to remain calm through all the washing-machine-like churning, jack-hammer-esque pounding & what can only be described as a psychological-torture soundtrack.

I kept telling myself I was going to be fine.

Since my headaches have almost stopped completely, I had resided myself that my blood pressure must be the culprit & was really expecting to hear an “all clear” at the end of the 45 minutes.

But my head began to tell another story.

Even with the ear plugs, it was massively loud & the sound cranked the pain back up.

I waited & waited. Pictured beautiful beaches. And waited some more.

And before I knew it, Mr. Wizard was pulling me back out of the whiz-bang machine, only to shout at me over the noise,

“Yoo have some-ting in yoor brain.”

“Going to give-a yoo IV contrast. Yoo allergic too any-ting?”

I’m sorry, what?

I managed a stuttered, “No”.

“Stay-a veree steel! No move!”

And before I could ask a question, I was being pushed back into the machine.

So here’s where I should say it goes without saying that that’s maybe NOT the best thing to say someone getting an MRI – especially when you expect them to stay still as you push them back into the whiz-bang machine.

My head began racing with all sorts of possibilities…

A tumor?…Is it a tumor?

Ok, maybe it’s a tumor – but it doesn’t have to be a bad tumor.

It could be something benign.

Don’t over-react. What else could it be?

Oh God, maybe it’s a blood clot.

Could it be a blood clot?

Ok – Don’t move. Don’t panic. Don’t cry.

Just breathe.

Breathe, Jenn, breathe.

….

(please don’t let it be a tumor)

And the next thing I knew, I was being pulled back out as he stopped to take a cell phone call.

I got myself up & walked over to his desk, anxiously waiting to hear more…waiting to ask more…wondering why the hell would you say that to me & then take a freakin’ phone call?

As he got off the phone, he sat down & pulled up my scans.

= The Facts =

So I told you that story to tell you this one.

• There are lesions on my brain.
• Not one….not two.
• Not three…not four.
• I saw somewhere between eight & ten, I think.
• They were scattered through-out my brain.
• Right side.
• Left side.
• Most were small dots – but at least one looked like the size of the tip of my pinky.
• He told me that they were degenerative & that they would cause headaches.
• He told me it was ok to wait until the 24th to see the Neurologist.
• He told me it wasn’t an urgent issue.
• I asked questions to gauge the scale of the issue: mild, moderate, bid-bad-ugly?
• He refused to answer & said the Neurologist would tell me more.
• I asked again about moving up my appointment; he reassured me again it wasn’t an issue.

I will call the hospital on Monday to see if they can move my appointment up, and if not then I wait.

= A Favor to Ask =

So now you know what I know.

If I could ask you,

• Please don’t tell me ‘everything’s going to be fine’. You don’t know that – I don’t know that. And so far everything points to ‘not fine’.
• Please don’t ask me questions right now. I’m still trying to absorb the outcome of the day & trying to stay calm. I’ll be glad to answer questions later, but for now…please hold off.
• Please continue to keep me in your thoughts & prayers and thank you to all for everything.

As you can imagine, it’s been a long day.

I still need to feed the black dog (he’s doing fine – just in a lot of mud lately) & clean the kitchen before I can go to bed.

I will try to post again tomorrow.

Much love to you all,
Jennifer