It’s Friday the next day and I’m being taken to the Homolka Hospital for an MRI. This time from home. I’m washed, combed, I feel much better than the day before. But I’m wobbly and the neurological problems persist. But I’m fine now, I’m not in the hospital, I have my bed and my pajamas, my family around me and everything looks promising.
In the MRI waiting room, I echo the advice of a friend who is mildly claustrophobic like me. The advice is simple. Close your eyes and count. The doctor prompts me to take off everything metal, strip down to my midriff and lie on the gurney. He fixes my head and puts a mask over my face. I look like a hockey goalie. I look through the bars and my breathing gets even worse. I pull into the tunnel and realize that if I don’t want to be a hysteric, I have to close my eyes and count. It starts banging, humming and buzzing around me and I hold the bell spasmodically and tell myself not to be a wimp and count the crucifix. I counted to 148,000 and it was over. They informed me that they would send the scans back to Motol University Hospital along with the radiologist’s description and the neurology department themselves would get back to me with the results. On the basis of these, the attending physician will tell me what to expect next. So the waiting began.
Again, I write to work that I don’t have results yet, but they will be in a week. At the same time I started to get well-meaning advice from friends and acquaintances :-). Don’t worry, if they find anything there, they’ll let you know….. if it’s serious, they’re already calling you…. there’s nothing there, don’t worry, it was all just from stress / exhaustion / exercise / who knows what else :-).
After a week, I called Motel myself. They told me they had the results, but no description. And whether I can find out. So I call Homolka and find out that they sent a description. I call back to Motol, but unfortunately, they have nothing. I call back to Homolka and ask what to do now that they have lost it in Motol. They tell me to find out the fax number and they will fax the description to Motol. They are very helpful. So I phone back to Motol, ask for the fax number, call Homolka and wait.
Next day, a phone call. Neurology from Motol Hospital calls and the doctor has an unusually calm voice. He cautiously informs me that the MRI showed an aneurysm in the middle cerebral artery. When I ask him what to do now, he tells me again very quietly that there are several options, but that he doesn’t want to decide on the next course of action and has to take the findings to the consilium (neurology + neurosurgery + radiology). I am to leave my cell phone on me and he will call me with the result…. Tydydydydaaaa….. tears are flowing, I know I’m screwed and I also know I have more rounds of tests to come.
The next day, the neurology doctor calls me and tells me that the consilium has decided on further monitoring and does not recommend surgery for now. And that I should report to the outpatient department of neurology (until now it has been an inpatient department) and there they will assign me further care and I will be permanently monitored.
I’m canceling Sardinia, a friend finds a fellow traveler who is happy for my week’s stay. I repeat in my head wish and you will be wished…. Okay. I unpack my suitcase, study what I can on the net about brain aneurysm, more or less it’s all one big mess, so I get totally panic and scared and I make an appointment to neurology, this time to Hospital na Homolce.
“If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans”
