In the meantime, I've decided to share a rather entertaining MRI tale (or "tail," as you will soon find out) about this one time when I took a cat pill for MRI anxiety. That's not a typo...I legit took a pill prescribed to my cat in a moment of complete desperation. Stay with me...
Anyone who has followed any of my blogs knows that I have a pretty intense fear of the MRI. I'm not sure why. I don't consider myself claustrophobic, nor do I fear loud noises. In fact, before my very first MRI, I reassured the Techs that I was more than fine with remaining motionless for a 45 minute scan. It was in the 10th minute of that MRI that I had a kinda traumatizing panic attack and swore that I would never do another MRI without the assistance of some anti-anxiety meds. Ativan is a beautiful thing, my friends, and was created especially for times like this.
Within our first year of living in Cayman, I found myself in predicament in which I have been so many times in the last seven years - one of my knees was sucking the big one and I required an MRI for a full diagnosis. Given that it can easily take 8 months to get an MRI in Saskatchewan, I figured that I had plenty of time to get a prescription for Ativan before I entered the tunnel of terror. That's why, when the hospital contacted me a mere 3 days after my referral was submitted, I was completely taken off guard when they requested that I come in that very day for my MRI. Shocked by the efficiency of what I had expected to be an inefficient system, I gratefully accepted and then realized that I had 3 hours to get some Ativan.
I did not have time to see my Doctor. In desperation, I began contacting island friends (new friends, given that I had only been on the island for a few months), begging for Ativan like a crack whore. Surely someone on this island suffers from anxiety? I had taken Ativan multiple times, so I knew that I responded well, and I knew the dosage that I required (Disclaimer: I do not condone taking medication without a prescription). I finally received a response from a good non-judgemental buddy who thought that she could get me an Ativan within the next few hours. She promised to message me as soon as soon as she had the medication and would meet me at the hospital so that I could take the anti-anxiety pill before my MRI.
When I hadn't yet heard from her an hour before my scheduled appointment, panic set in. I began rooting through drawers in hopes that I had an old prescription somewhere! Anywhere! Suddenly I came upon a clear pill bottle, containing little blue pills, which donned the name of my cat, Biloxi Lindsay. I recalled this prescription from 3 years ago when Biloxi had been accidentally locked out of his litter box room by the furnace repairman for 3 days. It had caused my poor little furry friend so much anxiety that he began pulling his fur out in clumps. The little blue pill succeeded in calming down the cat and terminating the undesirable behaviour. That's right - this was an anti-anxiety medication for my cat, and at this point, it was good enough for me too. I quickly googled the pill and discovering that it was safe for humans, I swallowed it down in one quick gulp.
As Evan drove me to the hospital for my appointment, I noticed that I was not calming down. My heart rate was increasing with the thought of enduring an MRI, and I was convinced that the cat pill was having absolutely no effect. Thankfully, my buddy messaged me, "I have an Ativan for you. Meet you there." Once at the hospital, I took the Ativan and breathed a huge sigh of relief as I sat in the waiting room. I would be just fine. The Tech greeted me and apologized that they were running late and I would likely have to wait for another 30 minutes. No problem. I was chill, man. Every little thing was gonna be alright. I was feline fine!
Thirty minutes later I awoke to the Tech shaking me awake, "It's time for your MRI," she exclaimed cheerfully. Right meow? I wiped the drool off my chin and followed her to my tunnel of terror. However, this time, it was the tunnel of tranquility.
For 45 minutes, I was pawsitively catatonic while the magnetic field caused my protons to spin (or whatever the hell the MRI does?). I was almost disappointed when the thumping and loud sirens came to a halt. That's it? "That was pawsome!" I told the Tech enthusiastically.
After I managed to dress myself and head back into the waiting room, I was greeted by Evan, who litter-ally took one look at me and became wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Apparently I looked a mess. It is possible that the combination of the cat pill and Ativan resulted in the purrferred effect - you know, times ten. There are reports that I was purring, purrhaps grooming myself with the back of my
Moral of the story...cat pills are for cats, you dummy! Don't take Cativan.
Cheers Friends - I will post once I know more about status of the knees.