Julie picks me up and we drive to St. Joe’s. I’ve been there a lot lately. I suppose I should get used to it, this is my new reality. On our way I take my morphine…that was fun. They poke me again–my veins are beginning to get angry. This time, to put in a dye to run through me during the MRI. They put me in the “shuttle”–I lay stomach down with my face on a cushion. Almost as if I was going to get a massage. I close my eyes and pretend that is exactly what is going to happen. Except this massage room is playing music of a drill hitting rock. There I laid for 30 minutes at least–the noise is unbearable. Can’t they figure out a way to play music to drown out the sound? Even elevator music would be better.
I’m all done. I want to break through the tech;s room and ask them what they saw. Did it look ok? Do they see more cancer? I can’t stand this not knowing. The waiting–time to wait some more. Tick, tock, tick, tock.