It’s 9pm, and I’m sitting here waiting to be loaded onto a table, have my head clamped into some odd retaining/imaging device, and be slid into a tube just barely large enough to contain my body.

I usually choose an evening scan at a facility that’s closer to our house than the main MGH campus because there’s something oddly relaxing about being one of a couple people in a medical facility late at night. Also, I enjoy the waiting room music. Right now, I’m appreciating the synth line in “Funkytown.”

Even with the evening-induced spa vibe (we have 10,000 Maniacs on the speakers now), I still experience this lovely feeling so accurately captured by the portmanteau, “scanxiety.” I guess it only takes one experience of having your reality utterly shattered by an MRI to leave you perpetually in fear of that simple, black and white, “contrast-enhanced” image.

As I sit here and listen to Nickelback’s “Gotta Be Somebody” (so long, spa vibe!) I’m willing my brain to be free of tumor. Wish me luck!

7 Responses

  1. Good luck! I can only imagine the anxiety that would accompany being in a tube while nickleback is playing. And the scan stuff too. Thinking about you in this trying time.

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