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Here there be dragons

Head Rambles Posted on by

I am stepping off the map into uncharted territory.

Tomorrow I am booked in for an MRI scan and by all accounts it’s not a pleasant experience. First they inject some kind of liquid into me, remove my spectacles and teeth and then bung me into a machine that by all accounts is like some strange yoke they have built for a film involving torture of James Bond. I have seen it in films and it always sounds as if it’s going to explode at any moment or at the very least transport the victim to a different time.or dimension.

Of course I am booked in at the ungodly hour of a quarter to eight in the morning. That is just playing dirty. I get a call this morning from the hospital confirming the appointment and more or less telling me to come in a lot earlier. Fuck that!

The MRI is just the start of it. I don’t know if the biopsy results are back but am assuming that the scan means that they discovered something a little more serious than an infected hair follicle. And I cannot imagine that they will look at the scan results and tell me I’m grand and to go home and have a mug of tea.

i haven’t a clue what comes next. Are they going to operate? Are they going to fill me with all sorts of nasty concoctions? Am I going to spend the entire summer hopping back and forth to the dreaded hospital?

I have decided to shelve the new car plan. I still want to run with it but I just don’t know what’s ahead of me.

Right………

I just phoned the hospital [a very nice girl who is a Head and Neck Specialist according to her card]. Biopsy results are back but she won’t talk about them on the phone [in case the Russians are listening in?]. Let’s just say she didn’t deny it when I asked if the results weren’t the best. Anyways she says I’ll get a call for an appointment next Friday when all the cards will be laid on the table.

That’s okay. I like a game of cards.

 

Comments

Here there be dragons — 20 Comments

  2. Grandad, I recently had a CT coronary angiogram, because the NHS (pbuh) suspect I have a dicky ticker. (I’ve had chest pains and breathlessness walking back from the pub!) Thing is, they injected me with an iodine-based dye so it shows up better. If that’s the stuff they are going to use on you, it’s very uncomfortable. It was recommended to me that I didn’t drive myself, and that was good advice. I felt sh*t afterwards and the next day. Fortunately, number one daughter came to the rescue and drove me. Two weeks later I haven’t heard a thing. So either it’s not urgent or they are waiting me to pop off to save some money. Best of luck.

    • I know they stuck a cannula in my arm but wasn’t aware of them pumping anything into it. Whatever happened there, I was fine driving home and my only problem now is that I need to sleep!

  3. I didn’t find the MRI any problem except the noise and I have had several. The waiting is worse than anything else, I had a CT with contrast last week to see how the cancer is progressing but have to wait until the 21st until I see the Oncologist for results. As I refused further treatment as I told you in my email, I could have refused any further tests but knowing the progression gives me an idea of my timeline ! Best of luck to you I hope it’s not bad news.

    • It’s the endless waiting, waiting waiting. I was told that I would have the MRI result in six weeks! Anyhows I have a meeting on Friday [or so I’m told] with the Professor when all will be explained. I hope.

  4. I’ve had several MRI’s and the worst part is the noise! They will give you ear plugs and pad the sides of your head (ears). Best of luck! I’m sure all this waiting sucks. We all are thinking of you.

    • I really didn’t find the noise too bad. I’d prefer it to a playground full of screeching kids or Joe Duffy on the radio.

  6. The more that I read of your trials and tribulations the greater is my admiration for your fortitude in your current difficult circumstances. Also the fact that you manage to keep blogging in your own cheerful manner is a tribute to your Irish determination to overcome all, even builders. My very best wishes to you and your good lady for a complete recovery. My wishes are somewhat selfish as I look forward to reading your blog each day and would miss it were it not to appear.

    • I write more to amuse myself than or any other reason, though it does act as a handy reference diary sometimes. Taking it too seriously could lead to despair so it’s better to just laugh it off. I think that looking for a drop of humour in the darkest places is quite a good way of maintaining a level of sanity. The best cure is laughter, so they say?

    • I’m not that worried about mortality. If it’s isolated then I’m fine. The danger is that it may have spread elsewhere.

  8. Think of it ths way – you’ve got to be around to find out how the new insulation & windows work during next few winters!

    • Haha! A chap just called to inspect the work. I was surprised that I had found a few beads in the kitchen. He mucked around for a bit and switched on the extractor fan over the hotplate. Instantly the room started to fill with microbeads! In fairness to him he did vacuum the mess.

  10. Following a diagnosis of stage 4 prostate cancer, I had an MRI to see if anything else was festering in this aged body of mine (certainly can’t complain about my NHS treatment), and they discovered a massive abdominal aortic aneurysm which could burst at any time. Three days later, this was operated on with an overnight stay. I must say, I have never, ever, had so many young women wanting to look at my groin during that stay. If I’d only been 40 years younger, I might have been able to show my appreciation.
    It may be noisy and uncomfortable (and claustrophobic), but it may also reveal other ailments. Best of luck.

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