With a little help from Mom.
I have an MRI today. I’m going to take you through my MRI.
Last night I was upset about getting another MRI. I asked my mom if other kids have to get MRIs all the time like me. She said no. At least I only have to go once a year now, not every day like when I had radiation treatments, or every three months for checkups. I hate going because I can’t eat or drink anything when I wake up in the morning. Then I have to wait a long time after I get to the hospital.
I’m in the waiting room now. I wait for three minutes. Then we go to registration. Then we go back to the radiology area.
The nurse asks me a lot of questions and takes my temperature and blood pressure. I brought Peaches and Peanut with me today to keep me company.
The doctor just told me the gas is going to smell like bubblegum. I guess that won’t be too bad. I used to get sick when they used the gas mask, but now I’m ok with it. It’s better than feeling the needle in my arm.
I wonder what I’ll dream about today.
One time, in the doughnut machine room, Mom’s earrings got pulled by the magnet in the machine. I wonder if it will happen again.
We walk to the room and I lie down on the bed that goes through the doughnut hole.
They put a gross, squishy thing on my chest to monitor my heart. I hate that thing.
Mom’s earrings did not get pulled this time. Darn. That’s pretty funny when it happens.
When I start breathing in the gas, I feel like I am floating. I feel myself smiling. And then nothing.
When I wake up, my mom and dad aren’t in the room. That upset me. (It upset Mom, too. She got mad at the nurse for not getting her right away, and she told the nurse so.) I start crying because I am sad. I missed my parents, and my hand hurts where the IV is. I hate that thing. I want it out of my hand now, but they can’t take it out until they know I’m ok. I can only take sips of water until I’m sure my stomach is ok.
I didn’t dream this time, at least I don’t remember if I did.
I’m starting to feel better now. I’m hungry and can’t wait to eat.
When the nurse comes with the wheelchair, I feel a little dizzy. Mom has to help me into the chair. Mom grabs a blue throw up bag before we leave the hospital. Good thing because I throw up as soon as I get in the car. I hate throwing up.
I just ate, and I feel better now.
That’s the end of my MRI story.
Home 
Ian, I’m glad you are ok now and you feel better. I wish I was there to give you a hug. God bless you and your family and have a wonderful Holiday. Love your friend Denise
Thanks, Denise, from both of us!
Ian, that is a very well written story. I really enjoyed reading it; it brought a smile to my face. I’m glad everything ended well despite the rocky start. Keep writing you are very good at it!
Kim McWhirter
Thanks, Kim! Ian says, “I like the comment! I hope you enjoy reading my next story.”
You are so brave!! Thanks for sharing your MRI story. I have a son who was also diagnosed with a brain tumor at the age of four (well, three, but it was a few days before his birthday). He gets scans every six months right now, but he’ll start having them every year, after this next one. I’m glad you get to use the gas mask, so you don’t have to get poked anymore!
Penelope,
So sweet of you to comment on Ian’s post! Here is what he said: “Thank you so much for reading this, and I hope your son gets through his MRI’s easier and gets to use the gas mask too!”