Another MRI

She went inside the MRI room, and the technician closed the giant green door. On the door was a sign warning of a strong magnetic field.

A terrible racket began. Incessant, deeply annoying, and loud, it's like the sound of a machine gun rattling rapidly; a sound which at times changes in tone and pitch to resemble the sound of a water pump hard at work. If it sounds like this behind the closed door, what it must be like for mum right inside...

The technician's assistant came out, a lively young lady with a quick pace and quick voice. She explained to me that contrary to what the doctor had informed us, mum needs to have radioactive tracers injected in order for the MRI scan to be more accurate. "Otherwise, there are things that may be missed". The word "missed" she said in English, which made me wonder whether she studies abroad or is an overseas Taiwanese like me. She went on to explain that on the doctor's instruction for the MRI scan it explicitly said that the injection of a trace chemical is essential.

At first she was unsure of whether she could tell me mum's medical details. Perhaps she thought I did not understand what was written in English on the doctor's note. "Meta," she explained, "Means metastasis". There's a suspected metastasis to section L5.

My heart sank yet again...

Is this why just now mum's signature on the consent form looks likes a weak scribble?

Is this why mum has to ask me every-time to open her water bottle for her? Why she has to eat with a spoon and fork nowadays, instead of with chopsticks?

The machine behind the green door continues to rattle rapidly ad loudly. Another test, another scan, another result, and perhaps yet another setback.