Yesterday when I met with Dr. Bibb here in my hospital room he went over these new pain symptoms with me– mainly, numbness and throbbing in my right thigh and additional muscle weakness in my legs. It was expected he would be approving me for my chemotherapy regimen within the evening, but he instead put it off to have a MRI scan done.
It’s possible that one of the tumors along my spinal cord is exerting enough pressure on my nerves to be doing serious damage to my legs and causing the pain to really step up. Dr. Bibb mentioned the next step may actually be surgery. We won’t know for sure until a thorough review of the MRI scan by several doctors (oncologist, surgeon, etc), and so a lot has been hinging on this.
Last night, after dinner and visitors, they came to collect me for the MRI. Kasha walked down with me to the basement room where it would be conducted. The technician who would be performing the scan didn’t have much to say, once she learned I had done this before. I was set in the machine, my headphones blasting classic rock, and the rumble-whirl of the machine and its magnetic resonance began.
…and didn’t stop. Well, the sounds changed and the table position shifted, but everything just went on and on with no feedback from the technician. I had no idea how long this was supposed to take and here began the dreadful pain, spreading down my thigh and now under my knee. Throb and clench. The pain was picking up steam and I could no longer keep my mind off it.
The next time the machine stopped whirring I yelled out, “The pain is getting bad!”
No response. My headphones kept playing Rolling Stones, and a washcloth over my eyes as I lay in the bowels of the machine had me totally cut off.
Another 5 or 8 minutes passed while the machine kept scanning. Then another stop.
“Help!” I yelled. “The pain is bad. I need morphine!”
Again, no response. Again, the machine whirred back into action.
I don’t know how much longer before the machine finally spit me out and the technician removed the washcloth from my eyes. I repeated that I needed morphine and was told my nurse was being called from upstairs. In the meantime I could lay there on the narrow tongue of the machine, in the prone position that was causing my pain to build. The scan was halfway done.
The technician left the room and I waited for my nurse. The pain changed and I moaned and shifted accordingly. Deep breaths. Curses. Pain explosions and acid burning. I curse LOUDER.
Finally:
“GET ME OUT OF HERE!”
I could wait no longer. The technician reappeared and said my nurse was still on her way. I told her I didn’t care, that I wanted her to get me out of there NOW.
It took some time for me to be able to move. It was as though my hips were flayed and stapled to the table. Finally, after some minutes, I was able to roll back onto the gurney. I was wheeled out of the MRI room and into the basement corridor toward the elevator. My night nurse, Trif, met me in route.
I have your morphine, she told me. My eyes were clenched shut and I was totally focused on getting the hell out of there.
“We need to get you back in there so you can finish the scan,” she told me. “Out of 1-10, what is your pain level?”
“10,” I hissed. Trif injected 10 mg of morphine into my IV. Within a minute I was calmer and the pain receded a little more to the background. I explained that I could not go back there tonight. The MRI was officially over. I wanted to go back to my room. Any hope I had of getting it done went out the window after the 3rd impotent yell.
And so, that’s what kept me from getting my MRI done earlier, and set me up for a miserable night on the floor, with doses of morphine and oxycodone delivered around the clock.
This morning, at 7am, Trif was back in my room with a 10mg syringe of morphine. She told me they were getting me into MRI first thing this morning and the pre-dose should help. I was glad to hear it. Even though the morphine failed to dope me I was glad for the extra girding.
The male technician who performed the MRI was communicative and I got through it. Granted, I had finished the longest stretch of the scan last night, but there were still a few times I wasn’t sure the pain in my thigh would win over. Funny, but I consider the fact I made it through this whole traumatic experience without aborting to be one of my best accomplishments this year.
Life goes by a whole new standard of measurements now.
Filed under Pain Management, Surgery & Cancer Therapies
Post a comment/ reply below, or follow discussion on our comment feed (RSS 2.0).
I cannot begin to understand the amount of pain you were in. I am in awe of your strength and bravery. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Let me know if there is anything I can do.