Oh Kristy!,

I had a rather awkward experience this week.

To clarify things with those few who might read our letters to each other, I have had cancer several times. I don’t really think or talk about it often. I like to live life to the fullest and don’t have time to dwell on the bumps in life. But because I have been dealing with issues of cancer since I was nineteen I have had many tests, procedures and unusual/awkward things performed on me. But this week I have NEVER had quite this type of experience.

Since our move to Virginia I have had to find a breast doctor that will see me for my check ups for breast cancer. I am returning to Arkansas for my lymphoma check ups with Dr. Mendelsohn. I love him dearly and he is basically part of our family. I have been with him forever. But Dr. Mendelsohn wanted me to find someone here to do my breast checkups. Which is fine, but the first time I went for a mammogram here was last November and they treated me like a circus side show. They had tons of questions and not the type of questions you have when you meet a new friend. The questions were more like when you are in trouble and are seated in the school’s principal’s office. But that’s neither here nor there.

Everything ended up being fine and both my new doctor here and Dr. Mendelsohn assured me that the questioning is usually the case when you are fresh meat at a radiology clinic. That was six months ago and it is time for another check up. The breast doctor’s office called me out of the blue this week and said that they had arranged for me to have a Breast MRI instead of a follow up mammogram. That should have been my first clue. But I go along with things and say “OK, I’ll be there”.

This is when the story gets awkward. So if you are a male reading this, I am sorry. I am really sorry if you are a male and a member of our church or past ministries. This is rather detailed. More details than I usually share. So feel free to stop reading now.

I get there and put on the beautiful, metal-smelling gown that opens in the front. Isn’t that convenient. They take me back to the MRI area to ask me some questions. They have this drawing of a women’s body and want to know where I have scars. Ha! That took a while. Then I have to sit there until it is my turn. I remember thinking that the machines were really loud. And one of them sounded like a bird chirping. I thought well I guess the employees could just imagine being outside to deal with the noise.

“Mrs. Noble”, it’s my turn. I go in through the door made of steel. And on the table that I am to lay on is a white contraption that looked much like one of those metal tire ramps you use to prop your car up to change the oil. (Not that we have those around our house!) And cut out on the top of that plastic ramp are two square holes. I am not kidding you. She tells me that I will lie face down on top of that thing!! Square pegs, round holes. Or in this case, square holes, round pegs. Sorry!!

In my head I was thinking, ‘you have got to be kidding me’. This ramp contraption was on top of table I remind you, not on the ground for easy access. Like that would make the experience any better. Now, just skip the next thoughts in your head of me getting on that thing. We need not go there. We need to fast forward, quick.

I am on the table and before she starts she gives me some earplugs. She told me the machine was loud and that I would need them. ‘Yeah, Yeah’ I thought. I have had endless amounts of testing and this wasn’t my first rodeo. Who needs earplugs?

The machine starts. I say machine because it sounded as if it belonged in a large steel machine factory. LOUD is an understatement. The thing let out these loud, pulsating screeches that sounded like the alarm clock from hell. You could not escape the noise. Ear plugs!! I needed ear plugs, those fancy travel ear covers and ten pillows over my head. I kept saying to myself ‘where are the birds? where are the birds?” But after about twenty minutes, the procedure was over. It took more than twenty minutes to not hear the screeches in my head. I couldn’t even hear real birds chirping outside when I left.

But before long I was back to normal. Hopefully, prayerfully, please Lord, that will be my last Breast MRI. I am serious when I say that procedure tops the cake. And trust me, I have had many procedures. But nothing can compare to square holes and the alarm clock from hell. So if your doctor ever tells you they recommend a Breast MRI, RUN!! I tell you RUN!!

Chirping,

Carolyn

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