The Strabismus Institute
Part 7 - The MRI
If weekends were measured on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being fantastic, never want to forget. This weekend - actually, 4 days - was a -20 on that scale, I hope I never remember it.
On the way home, I asked Betty to stop at the grocery store so I could stock up some. No need to add starvation to my misery, but I was not sure that I wanted to eat anything.
Miserable, I was. All I could think of was all the things that could have gone wrong and could go further wrong. Brain tumor, stroke, macular degeneration, muscle atrophy and God knows what else.
Was my life over? I got on the internet and I should’t have. I started searching medical sites and they just made it worse. Should I start looking for a white cane and learn how to use it? I wondered if they would admit people my age to the ‘School for the Blind and Visually Impared’? Why did I have to wait until Tuesday for an MRI? Don’t they realize that this is an EMERGENCY!?
Well, I obviously survived or I would not be writing this.
The 4 days between Thursday and Tuesday seemed like 4 months, but Tuesday finally arrived and Betty drove me to the Institute. We had not talked much for two reasons. One, I was too miserable to want to talk to anyone, and Two, no one in their right mind wanted to be near me, just in case I was contagious. Not that my eye problems were contagious, but my attitude might be.
I walked into the Institute, ready to bite off anyone’s head, who was even the least bit cheery. Jim was in the lobby.
“Hi, Jack. Man, you look like something the cat dragged in.”
I looked at him like I really wanted him to do something to himself that was anatomically, impossible. I was ready to say so very loudly, but fortunately, I didn’t.
I looked him straight in the eye (can you do that if you are cross-eyed?) and through gritted teeth said, “I spent the last 4 days stewing about what the hell is wrong with me. I didn’t sleep much and when I did, I had nightmares about learning to use a white cane. I could not eat anything that didn’t cause indigestion. It was absolutely miserable.”
“Other than that ‘Mrs. Lincoln’, how did you enjoy the play?”
“That’s not funny, Jim”
“I know it isn’t, Jack. Come on, let’s go get this over with.”
We went to a different part of the Institute where the MRI machine was located. I had had an MRI years ago when I tore the meniscus in my knee, so I had an idea of what was involved. I had to leave my clothes and anything metal or electronic in a locker and put on a ‘hospital’ gown. They said I could wear my glasses to the MRI room, so I could find it, but I would have to give them to the technician to take into the control room until the test was over.
As Jim had speculated, I had worn my 39/39 glasses almost all the 4 days because they seemed to be the most comfortable, but actually, nothing was comfortable.
The MRI technician was very nice, but I have to admit I was a terrible patient. He asked me for my glasses almost immediately on entering the room, but I snarled, “I need to keep them on until you get everything set up. Without them, I would see two machines and I would not know which one you wanted to use and I might fall in the floor.”
At first he thought I was trying make a joke, but he quickly realized that I was as TENSE as a violin string and said, “Let me help you get in position and I will take your glasses when we are almost ready to start.”
I climed onto the carrier - that is probably not the right name - and George, from his name tag, gave me some earplugs. “Mr. Charles, MRI machines are very noisy and I would urge you to put these plugs into your ears. Even with them, it wil be noisy. I would like you to wear these earphones so you can hear me from the control room, they are speical, all plastic. that will not affect or be affected by the MRI machine.”
I replied, “OK, lets just get this over with.”
“OK, Mr. Charles, I am going to place this ‘cage’ around your head. It will help concentrate and control the magnetic field of the machine so we get the highest resolution images. Please do not move your head while the machine is running. Here is a button to hold in your hand, if you need to call me for any reason.”
“How long is this going to take?”
“About 12 minutes. The machine will make different noises as it does its’ job, but just because it stops making noise for a few moments, it may not be finished, so please remain still until I come back in the room or tell you that it is OK to move in your headphones. I need your glasses now and I will place the ‘cage’ in position.”
I was moderately comfortable, as George moved the carrier so that my head was in the heart of what I figured was the magnet. They don’t call it Magnetic Resonance Imaging for nothing.
George left the room, and in a moment I heard his voice in the headphones, “Ready, Mr. Charles? If so, press the button I gave you and say that you are ready.”
I pressed the button and said, “I’m as ready as I will ever be.”
“I hear you fine and apparently you hear me. Here we go.”
If you have ever had an MRI, I don’t have to tell you how much racket they make. I was seriously glad I had the earplugs properly inserted, because without them, I would probably need very powerful hearing aids to go along with my very cross-eyed glasses. If this crap keeps up, I may leave here in a wheel chair or maybe feet first. Hmm, maybe I could get one of those motorized scooters or wheel chair and it wouldn’t matter much that I could not drive."
The test finally ended, and George helped me out of the machine. “Here are your glasses and you can now get dressed. I will tell Dr. Simpson that the MRI is finished. Please come back to the control room when you are dressed.”
Curiously, I felt better after the test, even though I had no idea of the results. I got dressed and returned to the MRI control room. Jim was waiting.
“Jack, it will take about a half hour for us to analyze the images and I would like to show them to some of my colleagues. Would you mind waiting in the lounge or break room area. Betty is there and she is very interested in how you feel after the test. She said she was very concerned about your mental state over the weekend and on the drive here.”
“My mental state was rotten, but curiously, I feel better since the MRI is out of the way. Maybe it is just the idea that soon I will have some answers.”
“Maybe you will feel even better soon. I understand that ’not knowing’ is worse that ‘knowing’ even if the ‘knowing’ is not particularly good news. I’ll join you in about a half-hour, hopefully with some GOOD news.”
I went to the lounge and told Betty about the test. She said, “Jack, I know this has been hard on you and I am very glad the MRI is over. Let’s get some coffee and they may have those excellent pastries again in the break room, if there are any left.”
The coffee was excellent and there was a couple of pastries left. As we sat there, I began to unwind. “Betty, I apologize for being an absolute ‘shit’ for the past few days.”
“Jack, you have no need to apologize. I have never had the kinds of problems you are experiencing with your vision, but I have had some other very serious health problems as I am sure you remember. You stood by me and helped when I was being a ‘shit’, as you say, and I can surely put up with some emotional feelings from you. Ah!, here comes Jim.”
“Well, Jack. I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”
“Please Jim, no humor right now. Let’s start with the good news, I need some.”
“OK, Jack. Here is the good news. The MRI showed that there is nothing physically wrong inside your head.”
“What! No tumor, blood clot, pinched nerves, nothing?”
“That is right, Jack. Nothing except we could see that you are cross-eyed, but we all knew that, from the get go.”
“What is the bad news then?”
“We don’t know what is causing your strabismus and we need to do some more tests.”
“More tests? When?”
“This morning, this afternoon, and some tomorrow.”
Betty spoke up, “Jim, I have got some things I really need to do this afternoon and tomorrow. I don’t know if I can get anyone to drive Jack.”
“Don’t worry, if Jack is agreeable, we can have our driver, take Jack home after the tests. In fact, we would like Jack to spend the night here in one of our guest rooms. We would like to monitor his brain activity in his sleep.”
By now, I was having mixed emotions. Apparently, my miserable weekend was for nothing. I was a happier camper than I had been on Thursday, but not by very much. “Jim, I have to admit that it makes me feel better that I probably don’t need brain surgery, but more dammed tests?”
“Jack, we believe that you are one of the most interesting cases we have seen. Typically, we can spot the cause of of any of the ‘phorias’ or ’tropias”, but not in your case. There is no question that you eyes want to turn inward very significantly, and we really want to find out why. If we can find out why, we should be able to at least solve it to the extent that you can legally drive."
“Well, if it is my fate to be a Guinea Pig, at least maybe I can be a driving Guinea Pig. I can spend the night, but I need to go home and get some stuff.”
“No problem, Jack. After this afternoon’s tests, our driver can drive you home to get what you need, bring you back here, and then take you home after tomorrow’s tests.”
“Jim, I have about a thousand questions I want to ask, but they can wait until tomorrow.”
“Excellent, we have at least a thousand also. Thank you Betty for your help, Jack should be home by tomorrow afternoon. Maybe with some definite answers.”
https://vision-and-spex.com/the-strabismus-institute-part-7-t326.html