I am reminding myself of the strength I know I have. I lost track of it for a while, not from being sick but because of my divorce, but it's still there when I need it most. Having doctors ignore me for the last 6 months while I try to tell them something is wrong has been quite frustrating. Being in an MRI tube for 6 hours two days ago put my mental strength to the test. The only reason the tears came after 5 hours is that I felt like I was ruining my daughter's day off with her boyfriend. Luckily, the staff let them know it would be a while, and they were able to go do things while they waited. Most of the time, I was comfortable except when I had to be on my side with my arm above my head. The pain began to be more than I could bear. Other times they had so many pillows propping me in positions I almost couldn't fit on the tube. The Valium wore off way too soon, but I was able to just blank my mind when it got too much.
I pray I am wrong about the feeling my cancer is back. With the series of events that have led up to this MRI, I really have lost faith in the medical field. Yes, in years past they are what saved my life, but only in my persistence to get 2nd and 3rd opinions when I didn't like what I heard or didn't feel it was the right course of action. My story has many, many medical blunders. I just hope the torture I went through on Thursday gives me some answers. If it's not cancer, then tell me WHAT it is, and not pass these lumps off as ... "I don't know, but I don't think it's cancer related."
