You read in my post last week about the plan for an MRI on Thursday night. So Michael took me in, leaving his best friend at home, and we checked right in, no waiting time, all going smoothly. I was given the usual battery of questions, but of course this time I had to answer "yes" to having an implant. She asked if I knew what brand of implant, and I didn't, but I described it the best I could - a long term, adjustable implant, that still has its port (that's how its size is adjusted). She expressed some concern about this, because sometimes ports have metal in them. This struck me as strange - why would they put something with metal in it into a patient who will have to have regular MRIs? Well, eventually that port is supposed to come out - mine hasn't because my implant still has not been fully inflated. If I wanted to keep this saline implant, they would go in and remove the port, but I have decided that once both sides are done and fully expanded, I will have both swapped out for silicone. (All of these little surgeries are short, like 30-60 minute out-patient stuff. I'm a pro at this by now.)
Anyway, they told me to go ahead and get changed for the MRI, and they would do some research about the implant, and then call me back for the scan when they knew more. So I pulled out my book, but soon enough I was having a lively conversation with the other woman who was in the waiting room, waiting for her husband. Probably 40 minutes passed, and then someone came to get me and said, "We need to talk." As you know, good conversations never follow this introduction.
The very nice young woman told me that they could not find any record of what sort of implant I have, and so they could not in good conscience do an MRI on me, because there could be metal in the port. I was amazed and fairly frustrated that it didn't say anywhere in the computer system the particulars of what foreign body they had put into my chest. She said normally they could call the office and find out (surely my plastic surgeon's office has the information... but again, why wouldn't it be in the computer system accessible by all of University of Rochester hospitals?), but since it was late at night, all offices were closed. Aside from the frustration, I was concerned about when I would have this MRI, because I was told this was the only appointment available during the magic window in my cycle when MRIs are most effective. Turns out they did have an opening at noon on Friday.
I looked at her, discouraged. "We have a wedding this weekend... Friday is going to be pretty busy. But I guess we gotta do what we gotta do." She said, "Wait, YOUR wedding?" Uh-huh. Poor thing felt terrible. She apologized profusely. But what could she do? She wasn't going to put me in a highly magnetic machine when I might have metal in my boob. So, she sent us home.
So Friday came along, and we started to make plans accordingly, now fitting this time-consuming scan into the picture. But then at 10am I got a voicemail from the MRI office. As it turns out, my implant (the port) is not MRI compatible. I couldn't believe it. Apparently having an MRI with this inside me can cause it to dislodge or shift and I would have to have it surgically fixed.
So the upshot: they could not do an MRI on me on Friday, nor can they as long as I have this implant/port.
She said I could call with any questions, but I didn't. I was a little thrown off by this, even as I was relieved not to have to fit an MRI into my day. I could tell I was off because when my mom called 15 minutes later to ask what the plan was for the day, I was quite testy. Plan?? What's the point of plans?! You want to know what I want? I don't know what I want! You make plans and they get screwed up and now who knows what is supposed to happen with my health and... dah!!
But after a few minutes of whirlwind, I decided this wasn't worth worrying about at that moment. We had a wedding celebration to plan, after all! And nothing was going to get fixed right then. The other scans they can do don't need to be at a particular time of my cycle, so they aren't as pressing. They had thought MRI was the best option to determine if the right breast has cancer or not, but without that tool, we can still figure something out. After all, mammograms showed calcifications both times before, which led to diagnosis. MRI had found the first cancer, but the second one was missed by the MRI and picked up on mammogram, and neither scan had detected the invasive cancer, which wasn't found until the mastectomy! We can also use ultrasound, which is sometimes more successful for dense, young breast tissue.
So, it will be fine. My doctors are good, and I have faith in them. Although this was a discouraging turn of events, it was just a mistake. The oncologist ordered the MRI, and the plastic surgeon put in the implant, and they just didn't talk. It's not like this was a life or death mistake. If people judged me based on my mistakes, I'd be in a terrible spot. We have gotten such wonderful care, that this one oversight can't come close to touching our extreme satisfaction with our doctors and nurses.
And, because we're still lovey-dovey newly-weds, I will add how grateful I am to have a husband who feels this way, too. I know that if the need arises, he will fight for me and be my advocate all day long, but for something like this, I love that Michael has as much grace about these sorts of things as I try to have. Yet another way that we bring out the best in each other.
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