Monday, July 27, 2009

Life moves fast, except on MRI day



Someone in this picture turned four last month. That's my daughter, Emma. People always think she's older, because she's so tall.

Someone in this picture had just turned 42 that day. That's me -- the Mama. People always think I'm younger, because my kids are so young.

Someone in this picture will be 65 later this year. That's my mom -- the Nana. People always think she's my sister.

Someone in this picture turns 90 this week. That's my grandma -- the Nonagenarian. (There's a neuro test spelling word.) Grandma suffered a stroke last fall, and doesn't really remember who we are. Even so, she still seems younger than her years, and we had a fun time together at her birthday party.

The Emma, the Mama, the Nana, and the Nonagenarian: four generations of people who grew up really fast. It seems like only yesterday when I was four, Mom was in her twenties, Grandma was ten years older than I am now, and Emma wasn't due to arrive for thirty-four more years.

Time flies when you're having fun, and life moves fast, even when you don't anymore.

Not surprisingly, my three-month hiatus from the world of neuro-oncology went by faster than I'd like. It's picture day again tomorrow. I go in for another MRI perfusion study, followed by a three-hour wait before seeing my doctor for the verdict. I'm always very grateful for the cushion of prayers supporting me, because that three-hour span seems to be one of the few times when life slows down for a very long rest. (If I only knew how to make it more fun...)

I got an appointment reminder call from someone who sounded like she expects neuro-oncology patients to have the capability of a four-year-old. Or maybe she doesn't encounter enough long-term patients who can still remember the routine.

"You're supposed to have an MRI before you come in for your appointment. Did someone call you to confirm the MRI time? Did they call you from the Northpark facility? Did they tell you to be there at 10:45?"

"Be sure to bring your MRI films with you when you come in for your appointment."

"Please bring all of your medications in their bottles so we can confirm everything that you are taking. Put them in a plastic zipper bag so they don't get lost." (This one was new -- I used to be trustworthy to remember the two prescriptions that I have been taking for more than three years.)

"Please come fifteen minutes early because we will need you to draw a clock and answer some questions on a form when you arrive. Your appointment is at 3:15, so that means we want you to be here at 3:00."

In case the MRI results are confusing again, I'm armed with tie-breaking evidence of good neuro functioning over the past three months: copies of my black belt certificate, my recent Scrabble scoresheets, and a recently published article that I wrote; my "extra credit" shoes for the walk-a-straight-line-on-your-heels test; and the ability to spell n-o-n-a-g-e-n-a-r-i-a-n. I'm hoping that the verdict will be good and easier to reach than last time, but I know that it is what it is: either something to celebrate or something to start tackling as early as we can.

...starting the drumroll...I'll post again tomorrow with the news...stay tuned...

2 comments:

Real said...

Hoping for happy news and a painless three hour wait!

Ashley said...

Good luck! I'm amazed at your faith and positive attitude!

Yes, Emma is quite tall... I'm not sure Spencer has grown more than an inch since we moved from there almost two years ago!