It's MRI time on Friday.
Or at least I hope it is, last time I wrote about an upcoming appointment it got cancelled, so I may do better to be quieter.
Anyway, it's due at least.
As medical investigations go, I don't mind an MRI. It's not painful and if I'm lucky I'll get to listen to my choice of songs.
I have an MRI CD which, thanks to repeated forays into the tube, has enabled me to choose a song list of tunes that can compete with the metallic bangs and crunches.
Some even complement it. Or so I like to think while I'm lying there, supine and VERY VERY, still.
(Just thought, will I have to wear a mask this time? That'll be a new one to accommodate under the face cage. Better check my letter.)
Sometimes I'm quite optimistic going into an MRI. This time I am not. I have clearly deteriorated over the past two years and I feel quite knocked by a suspected sensory relapse from a couple of weeks ago.
So I'm:
1/ anticipating new lesions
2/ wondering what this will mean for my next round of Cladribine (which I currently can't take anyway as my lymphocytes are rudely refusing to elevate); and
3/ contemplating the horror of the scan showing black hole(s), which in MS signify irreversible damage.
Although I like to try and be chirpy about these things, I also need to be realistic.
To be honest, I think the best I can hope for from the experience this time round is a bit of a lie down.
:: Supermassive black hole by Muse
