MRI Brain Scan

This morning I headed to hospital for my brain MRI. It was all booked in so fast that I never had a letter telling me what to expect. I'd obviously recently had the breast MRI so I knew about the scanner itself and the noises to expect but I wasn't sure if I would need the contrast dye this time.

This MRI is in a different hospital to the other. I filled out the usual form and sat with my mum in the waiting room. I don't feel nervous at all because I honestly feel that everything that is happening to me with regards to my brain is all down to the stress of everything that's going on.

The nurse calls me through and I'm shown to a changing area. There are no doors just a small - doesn't reach the ends of the rail - curtain. I'm told to take my clothes off, just keep my knickers on and pop the gown on. I'm fuming with myself that I forgot my pyjama bottoms this time. I explain to the nurse that the bra I'm wearing as no metal in it so she says I can keep that on too.

I ask her where I should leave my clothes and she says just leave them where they are. Oh great - behind the tiny surgical curtain - very secure.

I follow her in to the MRI room and she lowers the scanner bed, there is a big window opposite where I can see through to the area where the radiology team are.

This time I have to lie on my back with my head positioned in between two head guards. The radiologist hands me ear plugs one at a time to put in my ears. Then she wedges my head in place with, what feel like sponges, over each ear. She then places another guard over my face. Goof job I'm not claustrophobic. I actually look like my head is in a small prison. As I look directly upwards there is a small mirror in the cage that is reflecting the image of the window so I can see the radiologists in their hub.

Squeezey 'emergency button' in hand, I am moved in to the scanner. No pillows today and my back is not happy to be lying flat with no support. I decide to close my eyes and pretend I'm lying on a beach somewhere. The noise of the machine is so much more intense today without any music. I wish I had the headphones on again. The first scan lasts around 7 minutes and I'm relieved there's no cannula or dye today. "Scan 2 about to begin" the radiologist says across the microphone from the other room. My head wants to nod but I'm wedged.

This scan seems louder but shorter. Then the voice is back "Ok, we'll just take you out now and inject the dye." Whaaaaaat? First time anyone has mentioned this. I'm assuming now that this is what always happens during this type of scan and that by me telling the nurse I'd had an MRI before, she assumes I know this already.

I remain wedged, and I'm asked to hold my right arm out. Tourniquet on, I begin to pump my fist. She struggles to find a good vein but after a few minutes she's in but boy does it sting! The needle feels horrible in my arm, so uncomfortable, it stays in for ages as she pushed the die into my body. Finally it's out, plaster on and I'm back in the tube. By now my back is absolutely killing me.

They tell me to close my eyes for the final scan - I had done that all the way through anyway but now I'm curious as to why. If anyone has an idea then please let me know in the comments. The loud churning of the machine begins again. Constant.

The silence eventually takes me by surprise. I open my eyes. Glance into the mirror above to get some kind of acknowledgement that its all over. It doesn't seem like anyone has noticed! They are talking, another is on the phone. Then I panic, look for clues in their body language - maybe they found something, are they talking about me? I hate the paranoia that cancer brings to your life.

I needn't have worried, the nurse is back in the room and I'm brought out of the tube. She removes the head prison and the sponge and says I can get up. Easier said than done, my back appears to have seized up and they have to pull me up like an old lady! As I stand, my legs buckle. I'm so stiff.

I head back to get changed and head home.

I yawn the whole way home and even though it's only lunchtime, I climb in to bed as soon as I arrive back. I don't know what it is with MRIs but they just wipe me out.

Night night x

What Happens During a Breast MRI Scan?

I arrive at the hospital 15 minutes early as requested. I check in at reception and I'm given a form to complete. The form asks lots of questions about previous surgery and any metal work I have in my body. I do have a metal plate in my left wrist but we already know from the mid consultation phonecall that it's not an issue for this scan.

Almost immediately I'm called through, and I'm led to a changing area. I don the hospital gown that I have become so accustomed to over the past 4 months. I'm wearing jeans on my bottom half but obviously there's metal buttons and zips on them so very cleverly I brought a pair of pyjama bottoms with me to protect my modesty whilst in 'the tube'. 

Once I'm changed I head back out. The radiology nurse puts me at ease. She passes me a key and I pop all of my things in to a locker. Next job is to have my cannula inserted. Everything is explained, I'll have a scan first then a special dye will be injected through the cannula and I'll be scanned again.

The dye will help any potentially cancerous breast tissue show up more clearly. Cancers need an increased blood supply in order to grow so on a breast MRI scan, the contrast tends to become more concentrated where there is cancer growth. These usually show up as white areas on an otherwise dark background.

The MRI room is huge. I'm told to lie on my front on the 'bed' with my boobs in the holes. Easier said than done. I put all my weight on the pillow in front of me, the pillows fold and collapse and I nearly topple. Once in place, boobs hanging, the radiologist turns a dial on the side and my breasts are clamped into place. She puts a wedge at my knees so my legs are resting against it, the bottom of my feet facing upwards towards to the top of the scanner. She tells me this will help my back.  

Picture me, laying flat on my tummy, arms outstretched in front of me like superwoman. I don't feel like superwoman but maybe I will once I've won my fight.

The headphones are placed on to my ears and the bed moves me head first in to the scanner. Once I'm in place, the radiologist appears at the other end of the tube. Facing me she attaches a long spiral tube in to my cannula. It looks like the cable from an old fashioned phone. It's in. The radiologist reminds me it's going to be very noisy and she leaves me on my own.

The music starts but the MRI machine is so loud I can hardly hear it. So many different noises, loud clicking, alarm sounds... all whilst I'm trying to stay calm and still.

I focus on staying still. Big mistake. The moment you think about staying still, really concentrate on it, you become paranoid about moving. So then I'm thinking I have to keep my chest still... but how... do I stop breathing? Immediately my heart starts pounding with panic - Oh God! Now I'm breathing really fast, my chest must be going up and down so much. Shit! Be calm, be calm. Listen to the music. I relax again, breathing slows. I zone out from the noise. 

The music was ok... Take That, A Little Less Conversation, then wait... what? Is that Eamon? The song F*ck It (I Don't Want You Back) is on? It plays for about 40 seconds before it's skipped on to be replaced by Enrique Iglesias. I picture the panic as the radiologist's Spotify played the inappropriate song. I chuckle to myself... which makes me panic about moving again... my heart goes again and I cant control my breathing. God this is so hard! Keep still woman!

After a what feels like forever, there is silence. A voice comes through the headphones, "Dye injection in 10 seconds." My right hand lurches as it goes in. It's a strange feeling, a whoosh of cold at first but then slowly I can almost feel it going round my body. It makes me feel warm. My hand tingles, arms still stretched out in front of me, above my head.

My shoulders are aching now. I cant wait to move my head, my neck, my arms. The noise intensifies again. I've been in this awful position for at least half an hour. 

Finally it's over. The nurse returns. I tell her my heart was pounding and I was panicking that my breathing was jiggling my boobs. She laughs and tells me I did really well. I grab my things from the locker and we head in to the blood room again so she can remove the cannula.

It's over with. I head back to the car with a very flushed face. I giggle like I'm drunk, I'm so tired and I yawn all the way home. Let's just hope the results show my right boob is clear. 

*Fingers Crossed*

More waiting.

Did you know?
To enable a clear and successful MRI screening you need to be between 6-12 days out from the start of your last period. 

FNA Results & Core Biopsy

After 9 agonising days, we fearfully head back to the hospital to hear the results. This time the waiting room is busy. It is filled with women and their 'support partners' - sisters, husbands, daughters. Again no one interacts. Everyone's heart pounding, hoping. We wait for 40 minutes. During that time my anxiety is through the roof, my tummy flutters and my heart is racing so fast I think it could explode.

"Leanne"

A nurse calls us. "Can I just check your date of birth?" I reel it off, my voice slightly broken by the fear. We are led in to the consultation room and sit down.

Mrs S, the specialist, shakes our hands. The results have come back. The FNA results were inconclusive but the swab from the bloody discharge has come back as 'suspicious'. I'll need to have a core biopsy. This is where a larger, hollow needle is used to take tissue - rather than just cells as in the FNA.

I'm advised that this can take place later on today if I have time to wait, the specialist again says she is convinced I just have a papilloma but because of the discharge she wants to investigate further. I head over to the coffee shop for an hour while we wait for my appointment.

I feel calm again. I'm not in the clear but at least I don't have to go away and wait for days again. I Google 'core biopsy' on my phone. I'll be given a local anesthetic this time so at least I won't feel anything.

An hour later I head back. I'm given a gown (it will not defeat me this time!) and I head to the changing room. Again there is another woman there waiting. I desperately want to speak to her, share my story, ask hers... but I cant. It's like my voice has gone.

Eventually Im called in to the ultrasound room - the same one as before. The curtain is pulled across and the nurse sent to the fridge to get the lidocaine. The radiologists asks me to remove my gown and lie on my right side with my left arm above my head. It's uncomfortable and I dread that I have to stay there... still... for a long period.

The local anaesthetic is injected in various places to numb the area. She apologies because the area is so close to my nipple and that is the most sensitive part. She keeps going around my breast but at one point she has to call for a superior to come in, one of the needles had gone in to the duct where the blood was and so a new aneasthetic needle was required.

The radiologist was really good at informing me what was happening at each stage however at the time there were so many needles that I thought that the biopsy had begun. Unfortunately that was only the anaesthetic! Eventually, I was numb and the actual biopsy could begin. A small cut was made in my skin and a big needle inserted. When the sample is being taken it's almost like a gun. There's a horrible loud noise and then the sample of tissue is grabbed. This was done 3 or 4 times over the course of hour appointment, with the senior radiologist was assisting and advising on how to best get to the areas that needed sampling. It wasn't pleasant but you just have to deal with it don't you.

After the biopsy the radiologist said "oh I forgot to tell you about this bit, I'm just going to put a titanium marker in place. Ok?" I was so traumatised from the biopsy itself that I didn't really have the chance to question it. I hated that it was just sprung upon me without any real detail and I had no time to think about it before it was done. It made me panic because in my head I felt as though they could see something bad and had to mark it up. I've since found out its so they know where they took the biopsy from so they can go back and remove anything nasty and locate it quickly

Afterwards a small dressing was applied where the incision had been made and I was sent home. The bumpy car journey was as awful as the last time and once the local anaesthetic had worn off it was really achey. Over the next few hours awful bruising began to appear. But for now life goes on, we just need to wait. Again.

First Time at the Breast Clinic

A few days later I received a call from the breast clinic and the date was booked. 17th October 7.00pm.

When the confirmation letter arrived it said that I could be at the hospital for a number of hours. They try to work on a 'one stop shop' basis where you see a consultant and have all necessary diagnostic tests in one go - a mammogram, an ultrasound and any biopsies.

I was so nervous heading in to the hospital. It was relatively quiet, probably due to the evening appointment time, but at 35 I was the youngest patient in there.

Eventually I was called into meet the specialist, I was relieved that it was a woman. Id been thinking about whether it would be quite a lot, I guess deep down I was thinking that a woman would understand the importance of femininity, what it meant to be a woman and just, well, know... you know? There was a nurse there too.

I sat down with my husband and explained my symptoms to her... the lump...the blood. I was then asked to remove all of my top half clothing and pop a gown on behind the curtain. The specialist examined the right 'good' breast first before moving on to the left. There was some dried blood on my nipple - evidence of something untoward. She tweeked my nipple to see if more came out - it did. The nurse passed over what looked like a clear glass slide - you know the type you would put stuff on at school before investigating under the microscope. It was put on top of my nipple and the dark brown blood smeared across it to be sent for testing. She feels the lump that I had felt and marks me with an 'X' with her black marker pen.

I keep the gown on, my clothes in a hospital plastic bag and I'm told to go and wait in a separate 'female only' waiting room. Apparently I am only having an ultrasound, a mammogram is not necessary. I sit down and stare at the TV in the waiting area. There is another woman there - we do not speak. It's almost as if we are gripped by fear and our voices gone. We smile but there are no words.

She's called first. I'm alone.

I get up to get a cup of water but the ties on my gown have somehow been caught on the arm of my chair. In some kind of slapstick comedy moment, my gown unties as I stand and I expose my whole top half. Thank god there is no one else here! I laugh to myself and that puts me at ease.

20 minutes later the door of the ultrasound room opens and I know I'm next. My heart rate starts to build again as I wait for my name to be called.

"Leanne"

I carefully stand, ensuring there is no gown/chair entrapment and walk through.

The room is dark, its divided by another curtain that blocks the door. I'm asked to remove the gown and lay down on the bed. The gel is squirted on to my breast, the screen turned out of eye shot and the scan begins. It's tense and I try to scan the radiologists face, eye movements, anything for clues. She tells me she can see something but it's likely just to be a harmless cyst. She want's to do an FNA (fine needle aspiration). This is where the radiologist uses a fine needle and syringe to take a sample of cells to be analysed under a microscope. I knew what this was and what to expect as my Dad had been through this during his diagnosis.

I'm wiped with a sterile wipe and using the scanner, the sonographer guides the needles in to the suspicious areas. As she inserts the needle in to my duct, the blood is released out in to her needle. She decides to drain as much of it as she can. I have no clues as to whether anything is spotted but it is over.

It hurts a little and my breast is really tender. I am told to get dressed again and go back to the original waiting area to see the specialist again.

We are asked back in. The specialist tells me she is convinced that my symptoms are being caused by an intraductal papilloma. They will send everything off and I'll be sent a further appointment to come back in for my results.

The car ride home was horrible. You don't realise how uneven and bumpy the roads are and how bad your suspension is until you are in pain.

Now I just need to wait. And hope.