To Do: Post Office, Car Wash, Brain Scan
I go for an MRI of my brain every two years to monitor the little white spots that verify I suffer from migraines. It occurred to me during this latest scan that putting a headache patient in an enclosed cylinder filled with deafening noise is like taking a double amputee swimming in the ocean. Except you'd never do that.
Husband and I had been married a couple of years when he ventured a suggestion that Advil was not an FDA sanctioned food group to be consumed at every meal with an occasional Fioricet chaser. He asked if I had ever checked this situation out and of course I hadn't but as every mother knows the really important thing was that my kids had regular dental checkups and every inoculation recommended by the Department of Health. The fact that my head usually felt like a rocket on a launch pad was just an inconvenience.
I went to see an Orthodox neurologist who was referred by my internist, Dr. Hebrew National, and after a thorough neurological exam, he sat with Husband and I and the results of my MRI and blood work.
OSV: What do you think?
DR: I think your cholesterol is high. It's 260.
OSV: What does that mean?
DR: When it hits 300, sell.
I really like an amusing doctor because extremely educated and respected medical professionals tend to be very impressed with themselves. If I'm going to be told I have a chronic condition I want to at least hear it with a smooth delivery. Our attention was directed to the MRI report.
DR: The tiny white dots you see are migraine markers among other things. In your case, they confirm the diagnosis we suspected and in a moment we'll discuss treatment options. But first I want to point something out.
He indicated a small spot the size of a pill at the outer edge of the scan.
DR: This is an ancillary finding, something revealed simply because we were looking for something else, but having found it I need to share it with you. It is nothing to worry about. It will not grow, it will not move, it will not cause you any problem whatsoever and to assure you we'll monitor it in the MRI every two years.
HUSBAND: What is it?
DR: Technically, it's a small mass within the brain area so for lack of a better term, we call it a brain tumor.
As the color drained from Husband's face, I placed my arms on the doctor's desk and leaned toward him.
OSV: Okay, so now let's brainstorm about that better term.
We settled on 'anomaly', a good word for something not quite ordinary but also nothing to obsess about. Renamed and reassured, we left the doctor's office that day with our newly discovered anomaly and my doctor's guarantee that I will die of something else.
A few days later Husband and I were retiring for the night when he opened his sock drawer and sighed in exasperation. "You keep doing this! Rolling my socks up into little fists. How many times have I asked you not to do that? Why can't you remember?"
I pressed my hands against my head. "I have a brain tumor!" I wailed.
He had to see that one coming.
In keeping with today's science theme and in memory of Don Herbert, TV's Mr. Wizard who exited stage left earlier this week, Daughter's Featured Fotos are from her grad school Science for Teachers class wherein they had fun with Walking Sticks.
solo stick
pooping
so they curve their bodies and propel poop pellets over their head. defense mechanism?
trapped
the money shot
Husband and I had been married a couple of years when he ventured a suggestion that Advil was not an FDA sanctioned food group to be consumed at every meal with an occasional Fioricet chaser. He asked if I had ever checked this situation out and of course I hadn't but as every mother knows the really important thing was that my kids had regular dental checkups and every inoculation recommended by the Department of Health. The fact that my head usually felt like a rocket on a launch pad was just an inconvenience.
I went to see an Orthodox neurologist who was referred by my internist, Dr. Hebrew National, and after a thorough neurological exam, he sat with Husband and I and the results of my MRI and blood work.
OSV: What do you think?
DR: I think your cholesterol is high. It's 260.
OSV: What does that mean?
DR: When it hits 300, sell.
I really like an amusing doctor because extremely educated and respected medical professionals tend to be very impressed with themselves. If I'm going to be told I have a chronic condition I want to at least hear it with a smooth delivery. Our attention was directed to the MRI report.
DR: The tiny white dots you see are migraine markers among other things. In your case, they confirm the diagnosis we suspected and in a moment we'll discuss treatment options. But first I want to point something out.
He indicated a small spot the size of a pill at the outer edge of the scan.
DR: This is an ancillary finding, something revealed simply because we were looking for something else, but having found it I need to share it with you. It is nothing to worry about. It will not grow, it will not move, it will not cause you any problem whatsoever and to assure you we'll monitor it in the MRI every two years.
HUSBAND: What is it?
DR: Technically, it's a small mass within the brain area so for lack of a better term, we call it a brain tumor.
As the color drained from Husband's face, I placed my arms on the doctor's desk and leaned toward him.
OSV: Okay, so now let's brainstorm about that better term.
We settled on 'anomaly', a good word for something not quite ordinary but also nothing to obsess about. Renamed and reassured, we left the doctor's office that day with our newly discovered anomaly and my doctor's guarantee that I will die of something else.
A few days later Husband and I were retiring for the night when he opened his sock drawer and sighed in exasperation. "You keep doing this! Rolling my socks up into little fists. How many times have I asked you not to do that? Why can't you remember?"
I pressed my hands against my head. "I have a brain tumor!" I wailed.
He had to see that one coming.
In keeping with today's science theme and in memory of Don Herbert, TV's Mr. Wizard who exited stage left earlier this week, Daughter's Featured Fotos are from her grad school Science for Teachers class wherein they had fun with Walking Sticks.
solo stick
pooping
so they curve their bodies and propel poop pellets over their head. defense mechanism?
trapped
the money shot
Brains, brains, brains, just like the Goldilocks story. You don't want too much or too little, just the right amount - fried with a few scrambled eggs.
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Oh, the thinks I could think.
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so what did the doctor say you will die from?
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Anonymous comments.
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At least your anomaly is in your head - I've spent the past 28 years sleeping next to mine. Can you tell it's been a rough week?
I still miss you and once my version of Dante's Inferno (aka grad school) is finished (June 30), I will rejoin the land of the living.
Missing you mucho...
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Hey, what my friends do with their anomaly in the privacy of their own home is their business. I miss you, too. Let's ditch school and play.
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