Cancer Log 213

Nothing dramatic, just another routine screening MRI. I don’t mind MRIs, but my oncologist likes to get them with contrast, which means an IV needle, and I do rather hate that part; I still have a little needle phobia after the year of cancer treatment and all the needles. Still, screening is good, better they catch it early if it shows up again, so I can’t fault her for her diligence.

I’ll note for any locals undergoing treatment at Loyola that they make you strip all the way down for a breast MRI now; they used to let you keep sweatpants on, but not anymore. Maybe a COVID-related procedure change? Don’t know how widespread it’s likely to be, but it startled me, so mentioning.

Also, I don’t normally mind the MRI itself; I kind of zone out while the machine bangs on for an hour and often fall asleep. But now we do it with a mask on (they give you one that’s MRI-safe, no metal strip), and I found that slightly more challenging than normal. I *knew* that I could breathe fine, but I didn’t always *feel* like I could breathe fine. Did okay, but it required a lot of concentrating on other things so I wouldn’t think too much about my breathing.

Feeling moderately sorry for myself, so am tucked up in bed with a glass of wine and a British murder mystery on the telly. I do still have some grading to do, but I may set an alarm and get up and do it in the morning; after a long day of work + going in for the MRI (without even getting a Xanax beforehand to help with needle nerves), I’m getting to the end of my willpower reserves for the day, I think. See all my fuzzy, frazzled hair? That’s how I feel right now, down to my bones.

On the plus side, Kevin just reminded me that next week is spring break for UIC. I love teaching generally, but I will be very happy to take a break from prepping remote asynchronous assignments and recording lectures for my lit. class. Maybe I’ll just not think about the day job for ten days, and immerse myself in sewing and gardening and writing fiction. (And okay, a bit of politicking, because the election is fast-approaching.) That would be nice.

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