Here's a quick and easy fix for dealing with the many MRI scans that may come with cancer treatment.
BY Laura Yeager
PUBLISHED March 08, 2018
As well as being a cancer blogger, Laura Yeager is a religious essayist and a mental health blogger. A graduate of The Writers’ Workshop at The University of Iowa, she teaches writing at Kent State University and Gotham Writers’ Workshop. Laura survived cancer twice.
My 86-year-old mother had an MRI yesterday to check to see if she possibly had a mini-stroke. The noise the machine made reminded her of the noise of her father's Ford Model T, and she pretended she was in his car with him, rattling along the road. She said that inventing this internal fantasy based on the sound of the MRI was comforting to her. And then, when the noise changed tempo, she, an avid dancer in an earlier life, imagined she was tap dancing to it. "Oh, I could tap dance to that," she told herself. In her mind's eye, she was flap ball changing and shuffle-hop stepping using the sounds of the technological giant of a machine as her rhythm section.
In short, my mother had a unique way of dealing with MRI fear, and she came through the procedure, which she was nervous about, like a trouper.
As a two-time cancer patient, I've had dozens of scans, many in an enclosed MRI tube. If you have cancer, you too might have to endure these technological check-ups in this loud, tight, possibly fear-inducing space.
In short, my mother had a unique way of dealing with MRI fear, and she came through the procedure, which she was nervous about, like a trouper.
As a two-time cancer patient, I've had dozens of scans, many in an enclosed MRI tube. If you have cancer, you too might have to endure these technological check-ups in this loud, tight, possibly fear-inducing space.
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