Don't Move, Don't Breathe, Don't Do Anything Except... Pray

Today was a rough day.

You know what I mean, rough day?  Like, everything makes you want to cry kinda day?  It was definitely one of those days.

Yesterday, my husband got word from one of his dissertation committee members that he may not be able to present his defense at his proposed date - setting us back yet again.  We are on the threshold of moving out to California pretty much in the immediate future, and it looks like I will have to move out without him to start my job while he gets things finished.  Way stressful.  So let's start the day there.

I work in the medical field, and specifically, I see a lot of MS patients for a variety of complaints, mostly balance and dizziness.  As such, I see some of the 'worst case scenario' type of people - young women in their 20's and 30's who are dealing with debilitating imbalance, walk with canes, can't feel any of their extremities, have so much difficulty with cognition that they can't list names in alphabetical order - lots of scary things.  And of course, this morning, I had someone who was on the higher end of MS symptoms.

I truly love my job, because the people I see need me as much as I need to see and help them.  It is healing on both fronts.  But it is particularly difficult for me to see MS patients right now because I'm still trying to figure out my illness, and it isn't something you just casually share with others.  You want to tell your patient, 'I Understand,' because for some of these things, I do - but you keep your mouth shut, and you treat them the best you can, and you listen the best you can, without interruption.

It doesn't help the heartache when they leave that there's very little you can do.  And it doesn't help you feel hopeful that your own condition won't look like that in a few years.  How else are you supposed to feel about MS when that is what you see every week?

Later today, I had another appointment with the radiologist and hour from work.  I knew they wanted a contrast MRI of the brain, cervical and spine, but I didn't know they wanted both with and without contrast, which means I had to lay in the MRI machine for 90 minutes.  That is a VERY long time in a noisy little place where you can't move, have a headache, have claustrophobia, and then have gadolinium put in your arm while they tell you to try not to move while they give you the IV.

Really, like in the movie Atlantis, 'Don't think, don't breathe, don't do anything except... pray.'  It's really how you feel.  And about 80 minutes in, I started to lose it, and wanted to scream to get out.  Something about the sound of the machine when you have the contrast material is different, and it shakes the whole machine, making you feel like you're trapped in a bad car ride.  When I have nightmares, I hear sped up speech and repetitive sounds, just like the MRI.  I almost started to cry, waiting for it to end, counting up in multiples to try and distract myself.

Obviously I made it through okay, but what a nightmare.  I am usually very good with things like that, I hold stock still, but today was so hard to leave and not have someone in the waiting room for me.  Oy.

At least I grabbed a bagel on the way home.  It's Friday, right?  Until next time -