Sheila Sims Iding
I have the most amazing husband because he is the most loving husband. The love he gives me provides a sense of calm and comfort that is a stable part of my life. Many husbands show their love in different ways. Some buy gifts. Some give time. Some write love letters. One of the kindest and most generous acts of love from Pat is that…he holds my ankle.
Now that may seem weird or a bit kinky but it’s not meant to be. Whenever I have to have an MRI, Pat goes in with me and when they put me into the tube…THAT tube…he stays in the room and he holds my ankle. To me that is such a sign of comfort…a sign of love.
Recently, I dodged a bullet. By the grace of God and St. Lucy and St. Raphael…I dodged a bullet. A few weeks ago while at a conference in Grand Rapids I began to have trouble seeing. That sometimes happens with my sinus issues so I take a decongestant and the pressure is relieved and my normal vision returns. It’s worked for years…trouble seeing…decongestant…vision restored. It always works…except when it doesn’t.
The blind spot in my left eye got so bad that when I looked at the eye chart in the doctor’s office I couldn’t read a letter because the chart disappeared. The blind spot wiped out the whole chart. It’s pretty scary. My vision went from 20/20 to 20/200. Very scary and, pardon the pun…eye opening. I never thought about vision problems. I never wondered about my eyesight. But when I couldn’t read one letter on the eye chart I knew I was in uncharted territory. I knew then I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I knew then I wasn’t dealing with sinus issues.
After seeing a couple of doctors the specialist diagnosed it as optic nerve damage. I was relieved it wasn’t a retina issue but that relief was short lived. Turns out optic nerve issues can be worse and the reason for them can be frightening. After a 2 ½ hour appointment of tests and tests and consultations, the doctor told me the sobering news that 55% of the people with optic nerve damage also have Multiple Sclerosis. My thoughts turned to mom and her battle with MS.
So now came the tests…ALL the tests within a matter of two days. Chest x-rays to rule out TB and toxoplasmosis. Blood work…seven plus vials…to rule out Lyme Disease and anything else that could possibly cause optic nerve damage. Then came the MRI.
It’s my 5th one. I’m kind of a veteran. They have had to rule out MS for me before. I have dizziness because of an inner ear issue (sinus related) and numbness in my leg (started with my pregnancies) and every now and again my doctor would order an MRI to check on MS and/or my sinus issues. So…they are not new to me. I know the routine.
If you wear clothes with no metal at all you don’t have to put on their scrubs.
If you take a plastic rosary with no metal they might let you bring it in the tube. It depends on the tech you get.
If you have a loving husband and he signs the papers and he takes off all his metal stuff (just like at airport security) he gets to come in and hold your ankle.
So with all the other tests done the next day I had the MRI. I was scared this time that new “symptom” of optic nerve damage might be the one that puts the MS diagnosis over the edge. Before I was confident the dizziness and numbness were just me being me. But this time with this new “symptom” I wasn’t so sure. In fact, I was pretty unsure.
Then when they lay you on that little bed that slides into that little tube, you all of a sudden become even more unsure. They get you all situated. They give you the little emergency help button to press if the fear and anxiety engulf you. They let you arrange your rosary carefully in your hands before they fold your arms so you fit in the tube.
And then after the ear plugs (headphones for Michael Buble’), they place that little cage over your face and head. I have to admit I cried this time. I am not proud to admit that but I had forgotten about the cage thing over your head. I thought I was all set with my clothes, my rosary, Michael Buble and Pat. But I had forgotten that cage. It made it even more scary. I cried.
Then they slowly start to put you into the tube and they tell you to close your eyes so you can’t see the tube caving in on you…but I always peek. I am sick with fear which is silly because there is no pain involved. And somewhere that day a mom was being checked to see if her cancer had spread. I was just being checked to rule out MS. Still the fear consumed me for an instant but I vowed my first MRI years ago to never…and I mean NEVER...push that help button. I never take any medications for MRI's either. Another pact I made with myself. It's painless. It's laying down. It's resting. Certainly I can do that...without pressing a help button. Without medication. But...not without fear.
As you go farther and farther back in the tube the fear envelops you as much as the tube does until you stop and just when you think you might break that personal pact about pushing that help button…Pat grabs my ankle. And he holds it. For 45 minutes he holds it. And the fear seems to be cut in half just by the comfort of him holding my ankle.
The Hail Mary’s come and go and bring their own comfort. Michael Buble blares in your ears over the clanking of magnets. (I don't think Mary minds a little Buble' mixed with prayer.) The songs are familiar and comforting and provide a time table for the tube imprisonment. If most songs are about 3 minutes long then after about 10 songs you figure it should be time for the dye.
The dye is kind of the worst part. No..it doesn’t hurt at all. The hard part is that they bring you out of the tube to inject it but you know you have to go back in. But it’s only for 20 minutes. Enough for one Rosary and about 6 Michael Buble songs…and 20 minutes of ankle holding.
When it is over there aren’t enough hugs or thank you’s for the ankle holding husband but he is the one talking. Telling you how proud he is of you. Telling you how shiny your rings looked in the tube and how he loved watching your fingers move along the rosary beads. He never mentioned that his arm got tired or his hand was uncomfortable or that he had to stand for over 45 minutes near an MRI field to hold on for better or for worse.
Today Pat came with me to get all the results. I do not have MS or a brain tumor or any of the diseases they checked for. I probably have a virus that may have caused the damage or an optic nerve stroke. Right now they are leaning toward the virus diagnosis and treating that and hoping my eyesight will return. It was already getting a little better so I am hopeful.
Today as we left the doctor’s office I knew I had dodged a bullet. I know that somewhere today someone wasn’t so lucky. Somewhere today someone got bad news about blood tests, chest x-rays and MRI’s.
Today I knew, once again, how very blessed I am. I thanked St. Lucy for guarding my eyesight and still have her on call as we work through it. I thanked St. Raphael for the doctors and the tests and the medicine that helped me. I thanked God for the immense blessings He has given me in letting me dodge a bullet and I prayed to Him for all the people who weren’t so lucky today. And then I thanked Pat Iding for his unselfish love and for being my greatest source of calm and comfort, for walking with me as I dodged bullets and for one of the most loving acts I know…taking my ankle and holding on.