Taking Time Out

Disorienting. That's the only word to describe an MRI. The technicians pose you exactly how they want you, and you 're not allowed to move even one tiny finger tip until the procedure is over. The platform on which you're positioned is then slid into a tube. You're provided with earplugs to block out the deafening noise, but it's still really, really loud.

But who's complaining. I will happily take time out to get my MRI next year. This tool has the potential to save my life. In reviewing my MRI, the radiologist detected another very small mass in the same area as the one already biopsied. She ordered me in for more ultrasound and confirmed what the MRI suggested. There was another pea-sized growth in the same quadrant, which is not unusual. (Can you tell that I'm avoiding the "T" word. They are what rats develop in scientific studies, and I'm not going there.)

My second growth was too small for anyone to feel by hand, which shows the value of my having an MRI. The experts also tell me that MRI will detect breast cancer when it is still confined to the milk ducts and is not yet "invasive." This is considered a "pre-cancerous" condition and is fully curable. In other words, if I had been screened with MRI a couple of years ago, my condition could have been detected before it posed any real threat. (Mammography detects this, too, but apparently not on my x-rays.)

Enough lecturing. Now back to the story.

I went to the Breast Center at USC/Norris. That's an impressive operation. They go at this disease as a team, with a chief surgeon, younger surgeons, a radiologist, and support staff all working together. After conducting their own exams and reviewing all of the data I brought, my new medical team failed to find anything else worrisome and scheduled my surgery for the day before Thanksgiving. The doctors decided on a breast conservation procedure, which is much less traumatic than masectomy and means I may be released from the hospital the same day, if all goes well.

As for the surgery, imagine the face of a clock. The surgeon will remove about 2 hours, roughly between 3 and 5 o'clock. Then the clock will be reconfigured to appear as if no time were taken out. Whatever works.

I just hope to be home in plenty of time to enjoy my family and my turkey and pie -- and, more importantly, to take time out for thanks.