For those of you that haven’t had the pleasure, MRI’s are noisy,
but a piece of cake. After the standard
pre-appointment paperwork, proof of insurance and co-pay, I changed into some
glorious scrub pants and a hospital gown.
A kind MRI technician got me comfortable on the sliding table and gave
me a painless IV in prep for the “contrast images” toward the end of the MRI. With ear
plugs in place, the automated table slid me back into the hole of the giant
donut. A carefully placed mirror allowed me to see both my sock feet and the
technician in the adjacent room. “You
comfortable?” she asked over the intercom.
“This first set of images will be about 3 minutes.” My first MRI lacked this type of play-by-play
commentary and with such I did sort of lose track of time as the machine takes
about 45 minutes to run through a series of
hums, clicks and knocks. With about
10-15 minutes to go, the technician came in to inject the fluid “contrast”
through the IV. Some people note almost
an immediate metallic taste in their mouth with the contrast, but I lack that
particular genetic sequence and sense nothing.
A few more minutes of clanks and clicks and I was sent back to change
into my street clothes.
I dressed and had to go to medical records to request a
compact disk of my MRI results. “I can
give you a CD, but they won’t include the radiologist report until for another
day or two”. “I understand, but would
still like to have my images, thank you.”
I, of course, have my images from January so knew that as
soon as I could get to my computer, could do my own comparative review. So what did I find? I couldn’t find any difference in the
tumor. The new images seemed to be
exactly like the previous images. These
tumors typically grow 1-2 mm per year, some more, some less. I know the doctor will measure precisely and
I’m quite curious to hear his report, but from my standpoint the tumor hasn’t
changed. That combine with the results
from my hearing test are both wonderful news.
Not apparent growth and normal hearing – truly answers to prayer.
I must admit, I was hoping that the tumor would be
altogether gone – which would have clearly been a miracle healing. As I’ve previously stated, I know such things
happen – God is God after all and what a simple thing for him. That said, I’m also convinced that no tumor
growth and normal hearing are also clearly in the category of God’s work. As I consider the difference between the
tumor being gone and the tumor being stopped, God is no less with either. The difference is my response, having a tumor
leaves me the reminder that I am dependent on God’s on-going work in my life. It’s true anyway, but we all too often take
each breath and each beat of our heart for granted. The tumor is one more reminder of need and
dependence. I want to be
totally healed and totally comfortable, but know that with or without this tumor, it’s not going to happen this side of
glory. For now, we just get glimpses. Both the glimpses of delight and joy and new
or recurring troubles serve the same purpose, reminders that we’re not home
yet. 
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