My MRI « Family Webicine

When medical providers become patients, we often have similar issues. We complain if we have to wait, moan about filling out forms, especially forms that are asking for private information that you don’t think anyone should know, like your social security number, birthday, and of course, your weight. I purposely put the wrong social security number or none at all. No one has ever called me up to tell me that it was incorrect, so I know it is not needed. I can handle identity theft, but I am not going to be honest about my weight. The only time that I was honest about my weight was when I was teaching with the University of California – Davis. One of my jobs was to evaluate medical students at their rural clinical teaching sites. A pilot would fly us in to some scary-looking dirt runways, so it was important that he balance the plane properly – equal weight on each side. I did not want to be responsible for a crash simply because I put on some pounds over the holidays.

So, I lied a little bit about my true weight to the MRI tech today because I knew it was irrelevant. I had arranged an “open” MRI with a bigger chamber for those of us who are claustrophobic. I knew I would fit. Besides, the MRI was of my brain and it weighs pretty much the same as it did in high school.

They made me take off all of my clothes, except my underwear, making me wonder which brain they were imaging – the big one or the smaller one (Men, of course, have two “brains” which direct many of our activities). I donned the gown, open in the front, but I kept on my black socks and shoes. I am glad there were no mirrors. I was directed to sit back in the waiting room. I knew what I looked like based on the stares and some subtle smiles I detected from the other patients. I stared at them, too, for a little revenge.

I didn’t really talk to anyone in the waiting room, since I have discovered two things about myself. When I am anxious (MRIs are stressful for me), I evolve into a comedian, or become sarcastic. I was fighting those feelings. My first challenge was with the eight pages of forms I had to fill out. I had an appointment for this test about a month ago, but when I arrived, more than thirty minutes early as they requested, they were one hour behind. They told me to go out for breakfast and come back! I was not hungry, and besides, I had developed a nice cough. Trying not to cough while lying on you back for an hour was not something I could really accomplish, so I rescheduled. My appointment today was for 12:30 PM (lunch time for most people), so I decided to ignore the “come in early rule” and arrive promptly on-time. I insisted on keeping all of the papers I filled out last month so I could use them again. The receptionist handed me new ones, so I gave her the ones that I had completed already. Confused, she accepted them as long as I would sign and re-date them. Nothing had changed, other than the fact I was a month older.

I had been ordering them for my patients for years, so when I had my first MRI about 15 years ago, I did not think it was going to be a big deal. I was wrong. If the smaller MRI chamber was any smaller, I would have needed to be naked and covered in KY jelly in order to slip inside. As it was, my arms were jammed in my side and my nose an itch or so from the top. I felt like a cannon ball. I have never been a fan of tight, closed-in places and this was the worst. I handled it with a lot of mental distraction, but I will never order another MRI for one of my patients without first explaining it to them, and offering them an anti-anxiety medication.

My second MRI was in an open one. It wasn’t like being in a tube at all. The “open MRI” that I was in today wasn’t the same. This one was like a large vise. It was open on the sides, but my nose was still itches from the top of this flat, metal chamber. Having it open on the sides is not that helpful, since you are not permitted to move your head during the scan. So it was back to the mental distractions again. I did take a half dose of Xanax before I left home and I am sure that helped. At one point in the long scan sequence, I woke myself up with a snore. So it wasn’t that bad. I slept through most of it, apparently.

I had an IV half way through the MRI to further enhance the image. Although I couldn’t see, the technician commented that I was bleeding.

“Why are you bleeding so much? Are you taking aspirin or an anticoagulant? “No. I am pretty sure I am bleeding because you put a big hole in my vein and my blood tends to leak out.”

I was pleased to be able to be sarcastic. It was building up inside.

I wanted to look at the films, but I will be a good patient and wait until the results are downloaded to my electronic medical records. The purpose of today’s MRI with contrast was to see why my tinnitus has changed. Of course, they are looking for tumors. I don’t suspect they will find an underlying reason; we rarely do, but we have to check anyway. Like most clinicians, I handle some of my own medical care, but I let other professionals work up my tinnitus. Tinnitus is as frustrating for the patients as it is for the clinicians trying to solve it. I become just another one of their patients – a little sarcastic at times, with a few outbursts of humor, occasionally inappropriate, but at least I am not a whiner.

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