MRI on Halloween

Brain Cancer, Life 1 Minute

 

My next MRI and follow up appointment is on Halloween.  I was thinking of it as I was turning into the shopping district and passed the person dressed as a clown outside the Halloween store.  God, I feel bad for that person.  What a humiliating job.  Maybe positions like that should be service jobs for drunk drivers or something…  Is it crazy that I’m thinking of my MRI, to find out this quarter whether or not my brain cancer is back, and yet I feel sorry for the person wearing a clown costume?  I guess that demonstrates my perspective on just how sucky that job must be.

The clown character also inspired a great idea, so, yeah, I did find some positivity in their job!   They made me think how funny it would be to show up at my MRI dressed up for Halloween, since it is on the thirty-first and all.  Nowadays they’re making patients wear a gown so it would have to be makeup (thanks Lululemon for fucking up MRIs by putting metal in your stretch pants).  Not to ramble, but that got me thinking about the possibility that there would be metal in my makeup and I’d have permanent scars trying to be funny.  Wait, isn’t there metal in some of those brush-on powders?  I don’t wear those but somebody should look into that!

Not only do I have to go for yet another MRI, but I can’t even have fun with it?  That’s too weak of a barrier to hold me back!  Anyone have any MRI Halloween ideas?  Since I’m having yet another one, I’d love to have fun with it.  Feel free to share any ideas in the comments!  Maybe this private chick will even share a pic… Do you see me getting brave?

Published by Lahla

I am a brain cancer survivor living life after emergency-mode. I’ve gone through everything you hear about, finding out you have cancer, surgery, treatment, making plans, getting help, being unconscious, and so on. I may refer back to that... Shit, it may COME back to that! But for now, I’d like to talk about life AFTER the emergency mode that brain cancer brings. I’d like to talk about normal, regular, everyday life when part of your brain is gone and the rest takes over. I’d like to talk about normal, regular, everyday life when your perspective changes. I’d like to talk about normal, regular, everyday life when others see you differently and they either get you or they don’t. I’ve spent over three and a half years holding this in, mainly because I didn’t want to be labeled as having brain cancer. Many people fail to understand what that label brings. It’s not the same as denial- think about that. However, after all this time, I realize that holding onto it feels like cancer. I didn’t chose cancer but I had chosen to hold onto what felt like cancer. Not any more. So here it goes. I hope you get something good out of it, my brain cancer freeish, everyday life perspective.

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