I was supposed to have had an MRI the first week of January. As I started to think about it though, it wasn’t making intuitive sense to go through with it. I realized that my specialist might not share the views of my general doctor and think it was unnecessary. I also wondered if the heart specialist I was scheduled to see several months later would also want an MRI. The thought of having to live through the procedure twice was too much for me. So, despite the effort required to make the MRI appointment, I ended up canceling it.
For the sake of the story, I’ll share the appointment-making process. I tried calling the nearest hospital, but they said they didn’t do MRI’s, so I called one of the hospitals in the larger city nearby. Somehow, I managed to communicate with the receptionist what I needed. Via email (and with several trusty online translators at my side), we coordinated paperwork. When I didn’t hear back a couple of weeks later, and with my specialist appointment looming, I emailed to enquire. Apparently, they had made me an appointment the week I’d first contacted them, but I never got the email confirmation! Good thing I checked. At any rate, my appointment was going to be the day before my specialist appointment, probably not soon enough to get the results to her. That was my first indication to rethink things.
The appointment confirmation email came with a long list of “fun” preparatory instructions. They weren’t all that difficult, but just reading them made me queasy. There was also a prescription for something to clean me out the day before, another reason to resist the joys of medical tests. I will never understand why one is told to take something chemical to do what something natural could accomplish just as easily. It’s the pharma-mentality, I guess.
Canceling turned out to be a good choice. The specialist I saw in Bordeaux didn’t feel an MRI was warranted. I’m SO glad I followed my gut feeling on that one!
At least I finally got to see Bordeaux. Since it’s an hour and a half drive, we went for the day. After parking and then asking a couple of people for directions, we had an indescribably horrible lunch (it happens) because the vegan restaurant we wanted to go to was closed for some “time off”. (How French!) I left my meat-infested salad on my plate and was told “sorry” by the waitstaff, but they weren’t sorry enough to take it off the bill. To be fair, they offered me another item off the menu, but by then, I had thoroughly lost my appetite. Fortunately, there was a fruit stand a few steps from the restaurant where I was saved by a couple of Clementine oranges and some Medjool dates.
We did manage to take in a museum and gallery before the doctor. I was thrilled to find that one of my favorite painters was on exhibit at the gallery. That was a stroke of luck that made up for lunch!