Intro: Lately I've been on a hunt for answers to 'why do I get sudden attacks of vertigo with no discernible cause, which then usually make me barf?'
A question for the ages, for sure.
One step is to, once at least 2 experts are consulted, get an MRI of the skull to 1) ascertain just HOW thick it is, and 2) what might be going wrong therein to precipitate the issue.
Buildup: So, I had an MRI a couple of days ago. It was, eventually, quite loud, and I say eventually because it took 3 needle sticks before a vein would accept the introduction and allow the sweet sweet flow of contrast dye. My veins, they are shy. And prone to 'blowing' (heh) if they don't like what's coming at them. Coy move.
Back to the noise. If you've never had an MRI, the noise is there to frighten you into a stiff fear of things exploding around you and thereby staying on the wee sliding table you occupy inside the tiny tube that is surrounding you with the bangy noise machine inside. Also, there are magnets. Have you seen and MRI in action when metal things are where they shouldn't be when it's powered on?
Now imagine having a pacemaker or other ferrous-containing material in your bawdy ol' self. Those babies will find their way to the mama magnet when possible. It doesn't sound nice.
I do not have potential body-ripping implants, though I think the titanium tumor markers MIGHT still be there from the lumpectomy, but they don't react, so neither did I.
OK, I didn't react also because I was too focused on praying a mantra and holding to the '911 button' you're handed as you're all hooked up to the IV and about ready to get into the machine whereupon the noise-making can happen.
Action scene: One fun note, for head MRIs you get a little cage over your face like shown in the vid above (focusing the magnetic beams straight into your brains? I don't know), just to confirm that you're totally safe and do not need an escape plan other than the panic button. Also little noggin stabilizers shoved behind your ears to prevent twitching or whatnot if you're prone to that, which I am, so appreciated the extra support. It's FINE and built for your comfort, I am sure.
AND, you get headphones, presumably to protect against the appreciable amount of noisenoise, and also so the experts operating the machine can speak EVER SO SOFTLY into your ears to tell you...something. '3 minutes' or 'you're doing great' or 'just one more scan' (my favorite). You may also choose some type of music to be piped into the headphones if you like, but I eschewed, as a part of my complaint is sudden and serious hearing loss in one ear. I don't need no other noise, thanks.
Now, this might sound as though I was in a panic throughout, but that's not really the case. Yes, the process is stressful, but if you trust the pros who are there to take care of you and also trust in the power of the panic button, and THEN just think happy thoughts about how glad you are to have this tech available instead of potentially having to go through life dizzy and sick, then that makes it so much easier to bear. Horrifying noises and all.
Denoument:Two hours later I was back in my car with one blown-out forearm vein (my own fault for having wallflower blood vessels) and a fervent hope that nothing is actually wrong inside my head.
I spent the next day horribly dizzy and sick (woohoo magic alignment of water molecules and such?), but perked up when I saw the 'read' of the MRI in the 'my chart' delivered through my doctor's office. Bottom line is nothing unusual about my brain except it looks like I might a decongestant for 'mucus' reasons. Awesome. We'll see what the doc says, of course.
Resolution: not yet. This is but one chapter in my search. But a big one to get past. Scary things seems to be out of the treatment picture, at least for now.
Thanks for reading.