Today’s MRI scan was an altogether horrible experience. As expected.
Arrived early. Attended to half an hour late. Forced to wear on of those stupid hospital gowns. I’m sure my stripey underwear wouldn’t offend. Then into the tiniest tube. Rear end raised by padding. Forty minutes later the spine they’re busy scanning is in bloody agony from the angle I’ve been lying at.
The scan has been ordered because my right leg is feeble. I used an old man walking stick for the first time today. It helped. Exiting the football on Saturday with steps and crowds was petrifying. The stick should give me support and may also buy me space in a crowd.
I assume I’ll get my scan results from Oncobabe in three weeks. Although as its been requested as an urgent scan I suppose that may be brought forward.
The thinking is if I have a limp my spine is wrong. If my spine is wrong it could be cancer in the bone. That said, when I was eventually diagnosed a year ago L4, L5 and T7 verterbrae were damaged. My surgery only addressed L4. Perhaps my half eaten L5 bone has partially collapsed? I can only speculate.
Despite the potential for bad news I’m not fearing the scan results. I’ve still got a “what will be will be” approach to my cancer. I can’t control it. I can’t change it. I can simply take the drugs prescribed and get on with what’s left of life. The talk of “fighting cancer” implies there’s something I can do beyond this. I don’t think there is. Not in a way that would extend life.
Now I just have to wait. And see if a hint of worry does creep in unexpectedly!