Panic in the tube

by | May 20, 2012 | Blog | 0 comments

Every 6 months, I see an oncologist in Rochester who is just awesome.  She manages and monitors my ‘girls’, second base, the ta-ta’s or whatever you’d like to call them.

On the first 6 month appointment, I have an exam and a mammogram.  Not altogether pleasant, but doable. It is somewhat discerning to have someone push and pull your boob in different positions but you have to do it. And yes, the thought does cross my mind each and every time, ‘what is this machine mechanically fails and I am trapped here?’ That would make for an interesting post to this blog!

On the next 6 month appointment, I have an exam and an MRI.  I hate the MRI. I dread it for weeks and panic sets in about 24 hours prior.  I need 4 Valium and a Xanax just to get in the car to drive there.  And I need one more thing: BOB. I don’t think even the steel eyes of Christian Grey could get me into that tube any better or easier than Bob.

Bob is the technician who performs this test and is the only one who I can do this with.  He is kind and caring and he gets me: that I am psychotic and a nervous wreck.

Just the look of the table and the tube sets my heart beating.  (It is pounding as I write this.)
You lay on your stomach and put the girls on two indents in the foam padding.  The IV is set up in your arm for the dye and in you go.  My husband has not missed one of these and he and Bob work through whatever papers he has to sign to be able to come in there with me. 

By now the drugs have set in and I might confess to world crimes and Lord knows what else.  If you ever want to know the truth about something, find out when my MRI is and meet me there for the answer! 

I am starting to panic but I see my husband’s face in the mirror.  I close m eyes and try to relax.  I feel the dye pushed into my arm and  the machine starts. In about 25 -36 minutes, it is done and I am out. Ugh, Thank God, Chip and Bob.

Once the IV is out, I hug Bob and thank him.  I am sure he is thinking, here is the half naked, amped up woman on Valium hugging me in front of her husband. When you look at it that way, he is probably right but i am so relieved that it is over that I do not care.

I come home before I know it and sleep off my stupor for about an hour.  I have to shake that drug, I have Zumba tonight.

(Chip, you are my Fifty Shades.)

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KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
Pasta on the Floor is different for everyone. It is a recipe that tells a story and inspires them to try something new. For others, stories of family, joy, loss, and hope engage with them. This brings me a great deal of happiness. I do not take myself too seriously, so be forewarned the subject matter is open and truthful. In many ways, Pasta is a tale of life, and I think you will find familiarity and commonality as you scroll through these pages.

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