20 Jan 2013

A ruler, a nurse and a couple of furry animals.

My oncologist was running so late on Friday that Madre had to physically restrain me from hopping on the examining couch, drawing the blue paper curtain and having a nap! When Doctor K eventually arrived we had a chat and talked about changing some of my meds, then he whipped out his favourite and, might I add, highly technical bit of medical equipment in order to check on Kenneth. A 30cm ruler! He never fails to make me laugh especially when he pops behind the blue paper curtain brandishing said ruler with gusto. I am to be handed over to his very capable registrar next time as Doctor K is away and I can't help but wonder if he also will come equipped with  ruler or if he will have a different method of assessing Kenneth's size. 

As well as an MRI to see how Kenneth is reacting to chemo, Doctor K also wants me to have an MRI of my head as I've been having some headaches of late. I like to think I am fairly brave. I've had pretty much every scan going. My bone scan on Christmas Eve involved a radioactive injection, being wrapped up like a mummy in a blue blanket to stop me moving and having my feet tied together whilst being sandwiched between two massive metal plates. Easy. CT scan, drink a drink and have an injection that gives the sensation of wetting yourself whilst being told to breathe at different times by an automated American man. Walk in the park. But I need to talk about MRI's. I HATE THEM!!  So to have two in close succession fills me with dread. My hatred stems from the first time I had one, let me tell you how it went down...

I arrived at the scanner and had to wait 45 minutes because two men were changing a light bulb. Yes, it took two men a full 45 minutes to change one lightbulb. Once the lightbulb was safely fitted I was made to change into a beautiful hospital gown. Dressed in my sexy new outfit and armed with my Olly Murs CD I entered the scanner room. I was greeted by my nurse and my heart started racing, she must have been pushing 80 years old. However she seemed nice and so was I lured into a false sense of security. I should have trusted my instinct. She told me I needed a cannula fitted because I had to have some sort of dye injected mid scan. She failed to mention that she was almost blind. 'I can't actually see the vein dear but I can feel it so lets give it a go'. Attempt one and she failed miserably in finding the vein but she did manage to inflict mild to moderate pain by using me as a pin cushion. It took her three attempts to make contact with a vein. I breathed a sigh of relief. However 2 minutes later she decided she wasn't happy so removed the needle and tried again. By this stage I was anything but relaxed. 

I was then made to lie on my front, gown open, boobs hanging through two appropriately placed holes. Dignity out the window. It only got worse. The old dear then began to send me into the tunnel. She caught my hair, pulled out a chunk and whacked my elbow so hard I yelped. The scan then commenced. I was not warned that the scanner would turn into a wind tunnel. The strategically placed window on the other side of the scanner meant that anyone who was stood behind it got a perfect view up my gown (thank God I was wearing nice pants!). Whilst being deafened by the horrendous screeching and clanging noises made by the scanner (because the poor old dear forgot to turn on my Olly CD) another disaster struck. My left eye started watering. Normally not a problem. It is however a huge issue when it washes a big clump of mascara into your right eye and you aren't allowed to move to remove it. By now I was convinced I was going to emerge from the scanner and be returned to Madre deaf, blind in one eye and mute because I was so traumatised. Once the scan was over the old dear pulled me back out. I sat up unstuck my face from the pillow, adjusted my gown, got rid of the mascara clump and waited for the nurse to remove the needle from my arm, almost as well as she had so expertly inserted it. My arm bled everywhere 'so sorry dear it obviously wasn't quite where it was meant to be'. Great. Don't worry about it, it's cool. As soon as she was finished I pretty much sprinted out of the room. 

Am I looking forward to my next scans? No. But watch this space. I could surprise you all and emerge from the scanner with a smile on my face. (I'm planning on taking a heavy metal CD with me next time and seeing how the old dear likes listening to that for 45 mins. Ha). 

As well as plotting my revenge on the nurse I've also been dealing with my online shopping addiction (did I mention i'm going on the telly and so therefore I NEED to have a new outfit) and wrestling with my hair. It wants to leave. I want it to stay. At the moment I am winning. For how long I don't know. It is falling out so quickly I need only touch it to come away with a handful. It almost stopped me going for a walk, because I was so scared if the wind blew the wrong way it would all leave me at once. But I donned one of my bobble hats and set off anyway. Removing the hat turned out to be ok too. I managed not to lose my entire head of hair with it! Result. 

A mention needs to go a couple of friends of mine who accompanied me on this walk. One fell over and covered herself in mud, the other proved to have absolutely no control over his dogs *so macho (standard Rory). I truly believe they have some mental issues. (They will never admit to this). But I put it to you to make the decision for yourselves. Is it normal to spend a Friday night at home casually dressed as a gorilla and a rabbit? I think not, but perhaps that's just me. 

Love you long time x


  1. Anonymous23.1.13

    your blog is inspirational x

  2. Laura, you are hilarious! This is so amazing, I feel like I'm really getting to know you better. Thank you so much for writing this blog. xxoo - Brooke

  3. I just found out about your blog on twitter and you're absolutely hilarious! Keep writing and show us those outfits!
    Cheering for you!
    -another beautyholic

  4. Anonymous16.2.13

    I too just found your blog on Twitter...so inspirational but also funny. Take care. x

  5. I was shocked the first time I had the breast MRI. Truly, I was not prepared to drop my breasts down two holes. I am older than you. I nursed two children. I feared that they would touch the floor. What shocked me, however, is that my friends never told me about how weird it was.