MRI, Legs, Hands - Any More>

1 October 2025. Yesterday was the first redressing of the legs after going back into compression. It removed 90% of the slough / dead skin in one go. Unfortunately that came with quite a bit of blood and a real mass of pain.

I was sitting on the clinic bed literally shaking with pain and on the verge of yelling the place down. Still very sore but did manage to sleep most of the night from 1:00am onwards anyway. Very damp day here so won't be risking getting them wet by going out today. Keep catching myself falling asleep when I'm sat at my desk or trying to watch telly. I'm turning into my Grandad... Well I could do a lot worse!.

Later in life he developed double vision but was still driving his little Commer campervan about. "How do you manage?" asked my Dad.
"Well if I see two gates when I drive onto a camp site I just aim in between them!" he said cheerfully.

Meanwhile, I stopped driving during COVID, we take taxis to and from the Doctor's and anywhere else when we don't have any offer of a life (I hate asking...)

Another trip to the District Nurse this afternoon. After Tuesday's torture I was surprised that this only became apparent last night. Although the blood and gunge appears on the heel, the pain is higher on the back of the calf but despite the apparent slim look of the leg under that top layer is an absorbent pad and three or four layers of netting and bandage.

8 October 2025. Today was a trip to Fleetwood but not to take in the sea air... No, this trip was to a hut outside the health centre for another MRI scan on the cancer. The legs managed to behave whilst I had it done, but are voicing their displeasure a bit now. "Is it your first?" The radiographer asked.
"No, it's about my 31st..." I answered. Results in around 2 - 4 weeks or so, I imagine.

District Nurses this afternoon. Although there is blood on my heel again we think it came of my boot on Tuesday when there was quite a lot again. So it's a good sign for today.

I am also a bit dismayed in that every slight knock does this to my hands or arms (see pic). Blood vessels must be fragile. First today though, heading into Poulton where a 1940s museum opens this morning for 5 weeks in the Teanlowe shopping centre. We were in yesterday and, as we passed, the door was open and final setting up was going on. I asked if they had any 78rpm records and they hadn't so I'm going in with some this morning including such recognisable ones as Joe Loss: "In The Mood" and Flanagan and Allen's "Underneath The Arches".

Cancer and Leg Ulcers Index

Cancer: Life After TACE

18 August 2022. More or less one week on from the operation and I'm starting to feel human again. The orange shorts - the illusion caused by the painting on of pre-op antiseptic fluid - have sadly disappeared and even most of the bruising is turning yellow. I still can't rest on my right side though and am not allowed to strain myself by trying to lift or carry anything heavier than a bag of fluff. But have been able to get a bus into the village centre and potter about on my stick for a few minutes before heading for a cafe for coffee and sit down.

28 August 2022. I'm ok. I think Miss Franny might say "ok-ish..." We should have been in Austria for a week from this weekend but have had to cancel that on doctor's orders. So we've booked a couple of nights in Bridlington. Can just potter about and hopefully get a sketch or two in. One of the frustrations of both the cancer and the after-effects of the operation is getting used to the fact that some things are out of bounds even when I feel ok. And if I'm honest I'm not always ok.

I was warned that cancer in the liver affects the digestion process by drawing a lot of moisture from the gut. This dries up whatever is left and therefore - do I need to go into details? Going to the loo can be hard - think of more than one interpretation for that sentence... I suffered some bleeding.

Unfortunately this coincided with me getting one of those 2-yearly bowel cancer surveys and inevitably I got a follow-up letter saying blood had been found on the sample... I had a fair idea where it was coming from so I ignored it... There was no way at that time I wanted to go through the laxative and bowel emptying that preceeds a camera up the behind... And I would have had to spend the entire evening sat on the loo because I just couldn't move as fast as that requires you to do. Once the urge hits you have to make a mad dash!

2 September 2022. We took a couple of days in Bridlington. It was windy and cold and we spent much more time in the hotel than we would have normally done. I was having to go for a lie down and sleep for one or two hours every afternoon and we usually didn't venture out after the evening meal. Even when out I spent a lot of time sitting on benches near the harbour whilst Fran had a look around the shops. These often led to conversations with other holiday-makers, some of whom would ask if I was alright - Heaven only knows what I looked like at that time but it must have been obvious I was ill... At least there are people who can look beyond me having a ruddy complexion!

26 September 2022. Some good news for a change! Had my phone consultation after the MRI and the tumour has shrunk a bit from over 6cm to 5cm and liver function and bloods all ok. No fluid apparent in any other places it shouldn't be, so all is well. All the sensations and discomfort I've had are consistent with the procedure I had, so nothing too worrying about them either. Next MRI mid-December to see what happens next.

October 2022. Remember that bit about no fluid being apparent in places it shouldn't be? I should have been worried about there being no fluid in places it should be. I've already touched on the problemn re the gut. I ended up compacted and in such pain that I was unable to sit down, lie down or stand up without being doubled over in pain. The doctors prescribed something the chemist couldn't get hold of but luckily the purchase of something that they suggested slowly did the trick, though there had been several days of agony and thinking I was about to burst my colon and go the way of Rudolph Valentino, but without all the fun of his days of fame!

15 September 2022. A planned visit to the doc's after my twice annual diabetic blood tests went well. Diabetes readings down, thyroid, kidneys, stable. Blood pressure normal. Weight down 3kg - good but a bit of a double-edged sword given the existence of cancer... Yesterday we had gone to a Macmillan's afternoon at a local hotel. I wasn't sure what to expect really but the whole thing was a bit meh. We hadn't been sent a programme so assumed it was drop-in sessions, but when we got there a series of talks were just ending and of all the specialist stalls for prostate, bowel, leukaemia, lymphoma, there was nothing for liver cancer (or lung cancer - as we left someone was complaining bitterly about that). A few stalls for mental health - ha! I've always been pretty mental really... More stalls encouraging activity as though I could fit any more zumba and pilates classes into my life... (I don't do any, but I make sure I can't fit any into my life...) Then the highlight last night, took Miss Franny to a carvery for tea and then to the Winter Gardens where granddaughter Grace and her co-performers won their school a shield for best effort in the dance competiton! Yay! Go Grace!

15 December 2022. Another trip to Leeds for a follow-up MRI scan. It went ok, MRI shook rattled and rolled as per, but easier to cope with the more of them I have done. Gave up some blood afterwards, which was reluctant to stop but eventually did - nice purple lump just under my elbow bend... Got to say a huge thank you to Graham who drove us there and back, our thanks and appreciation for all he did, an absolute gent. Got home and flopped a bit. Miss Franny woke me up at 9:00pm to send me to bed... Today could be a bit like that too... Thanks to all who sent good wishes and encouragement. Now it's the waiting game until I get the results.

23 December 2022. Just over a week since the MRI and the bruise where the canula pressed against my arm in the machine has started going yellow... Nice to meet up with Fran's brother Bob and family last night and a good night was had by all! Should have taken a photo of that really...

16 January 2023. Had the hospital phone call and on the whole the results of the MRI are very good. The cancer has shrunk again but there's another small lesion on the liver lower down. They are calling it a satellite of the main tumour and assure me that it's too small to worry about. Next step is another MRI in April. Told to take painkillers for a week as I've been getting stabbing sensations most days, which make me jump out of my skin. They are like an electric shock or a sharp jab with a needle. Could be nerve endings around the tumour healing perhaps.

February 2023. What a month since the last paragraph. Miss Franny had to have a cornea graft on her eye and that involved me having to put 27 drops into her eye every day. Many return visits to the hospital as the graft didn't take properly at first. Also the pains I was experiencing in my body had got a lot worse. I wasn't taking anything stronger than Paracetamol although by now I was taking the maximum allowed dose every day and still suffering. Also around this time my mother had to be repeatedly taken to hospital after falling at home and then being confused. There were times she couldn't name us or remember all her grandchildren. We lost a few relatives both on my side and Fran's side. A bit of a shit time overall really...

2 March 2023. The digestive troubles hit again. However, feeling vaguely human again... The night before last was a never-ending run between bed and bathroom and all day yesterday was zoned out. Couldn't eat much, despite Miss Franny's repeated "you have to eat something". Apologies to any who messaged me without getting an answer or just a one word response. I'm back to normal today. You know... dopey as anything but willing to try...!

14 March 2023. Nothing to do with the cancer but... We were shopping a while ago when it started snowing very heavily with small pellets of snow. Coming home we drove out of it, but when I looked back over towards the village of Thornton you could see waves of falling snow against the dark clouds.

23 March 2023 - the day after another MRI scan at Leeds. Home safe and feeling battered. Got halfway to Leeds and realised that because I had carried coats to the car I have not picked up my walking stick... Roadworks mean that finding the hotel and car park is a nightmare. Park and get a bus - bus stop moved due to roadworks - to the hospital.

Long session at the hospital, I was an hour and 45 mins from going into the MRI unit to coming out and Miss Franny was starting to get worried. Some of it was spent just waiting for the machine to become available and some of it spent spraying blood from where they took a sample.

Then had to go to the oncology part to give more samples only to be told they had no notes about me. "Do you come to a clinic here?"
"No, I had a TACE chemo treatment last August and come every 3 months for an MRI and then here to give blood samples."
"Well this is only for people with cancer!"
"Ye-e-e-e-s-s-s..."
"Well who sent you? You have to tell them to order the bloods."
"There is no doctor's name on the letter, I didn't speak to anyone it was just a letter." I wave it under her nose and let her read it. "Well we deal with 70 doctors, which one sent you?"

Luckily I can remember the consultant's name even though I only met him once. They find my records and take same bloods as last time. Then a very crowded bus going back into Leeds and with no stick, no one is inclined to let me sit down until to my horror as the bus lurches to a halt at a bus stop, I almost fall on top of a young woman with a baby on her lap. By the time we get some lunch it is almost 3:30 and then back to the hotel where I revert to quivering wreck status with occasional painful twinges just to enliven things.

We have been put in a disabled room, I think because of limited rooms not because I look and act like a wreck, but whatever, I manage to hit the wrong switch and set the alarm off...

Get back to car in Wednesday morning to find building work going on. My car is in a roped off area. I ask a workman "How can we get out?" He points to a narrow path. "I was thinking of taking the car with me..." He moves some cones. Nice man.

Spent the rest of the night twitching and waking up going "agh!" until I got to to 5:00am when I woke and saw lightning through the window. Long way off, the thunder came quite a while after. There was another one a bit after which Miss Franny claimed not to hear even though she was awake...

Today will be spent trying to get over the twinges and back ache through not having the stick...

Cancer and Leg Ulcers Index
Family Memories: Personal Index

Cancer: Ultrasound, CT and MRI Scans

This article describes my experiences of having these three different types of scan due to my cancer. The first two, Ultrasound and CT scans, were mainly used whilst I was being diagnosed. Once it was confirmed thet I had cancer (two seperate tumours in adjacent segments of my liver) MRI scans became the norm.

I'm no expert on all these techniques so my descriptions will be from a patient's point of view, not that of a trained radiologist, doctor or scientific bod...

Ultrasound Scans

Let's take them in the order of how they seem to make people worried, starting with the least worrying of all: the Ultrasound.

The Ultrasound scan is taken with a hand-held device, a round tube attached to a wire. Before the scan takes place the operator will ask you to bare the area being scanned and you will lie down for the scan. The operator will apply quite a liberal amount of gel from a tube and smear it over the area to be scanned with her hand. He or she will be wearing surgical gloves for this. The gel can feel quite cool and a bit sticky. The end of the scanning device is then pushed against your skin through the gel and moved around whilst the operator follows progress on a video screen.

How long the scan takes will depend on the area being scanned - lots of folds in the skin can make it more difficult for the operator or any moving bits inside of you (I've also had this scan on my heart - which of course moves by expanding and contracting quite a lot) can mean the operator has to take longer.

Once the scan is complete you will be given paper towels to dry off the gel from you body and you can get dressed and leave. You won't get any results at the scanning appointment itself, it will probably take a couple of weeks or so before you get any results.

CT Scans

The CT scanning machine looks like a huge Polo mint standing on its edge on top of a table. You lie on the table which moves you into and back out of the ring or Polo mint which contains the scanning mechanism. This isn't too frightening - the ring is narrow enough for you to be able to see out of it both above you and befow you. You are not normally going to be restrained in any way though you will be asked not to move and to lie still whilst the scan takes place. This takes X-Ray pictures of your insides and a computer will later put several X-Ray scan pictures and create a 3D image for the doctors to look at.

You will experience the table you are lying on slide along horizontally whilst you lie on it until the part of you being scanned is inside the ring. For me, with my liver being scanned it meant that my head was almost clear of the ring and I could look around and admire the plain white or grey walls of the room or by looking slightly down I could see that the inner surface of the ring had a clear panel and that bits of clever-looking machinery was spinning around at times whilst the machine did its thing. Not a frightening experience. You will probably be wondering why you were so apprehensive about it by the time you are being told you're finished.

Again you will not receive any results from the scan for a few weeks after the appointment.

MRI Scan

MRI means Magnetic Resonance Imaging - these machines use powerful magnets to create an image of your internal organs. They are very powerful. If you inadvertantly were to have anything made of iron or steel on you or implanted in you - watch, jewelerry, nose rings, metal plates in your skull - this machine could make them suddenly start whizzing off in any direction, including with you in the way, at something like 400 miles per hour. You shouldn't need me to give the kilometres per hour equivalent to know that this is something you might wish to avoid... But just in case it's around 643.738 kilometres per hour... It might make you wince a bit. For the final time...

Luckily before you even get to your appointment you will be sent a letter asking you about any conditions or implants that might affect your suitability for having such a scan.

Once you get to the hospital for your scan they will take your letter and go through each point with you to ensure that [1] you understand the importance of it; [2] you understand the individual questions and [3] you have answered it correctly. You will now have a canula inserted into a vein in the inside of your elbow. This is a tiny needle prick and once the needle is inside a vein a bendy plastic tube will be slid down it into the vein and the needle withdrawn. You don't need to be frightened about having to keep your elbow rigid as there will be no needle left inside to snap off.

The canula attached to the tube is a much thicker (but I'm only talking about 1/2 an inch or 1 cm or so) tube that is basically a syringe. You may have to have a dye solution pumped in halfway through the scan - I'll talk about that in a bit. You will also be asked a few simple questions about your health.

The next step will be to make sure you are not carrying anything in pockets or in parts of a belt or in clothing or on your person that might be attracted by the machine's magnetic bits. Depending on the area to be scanned you may be asked to undress and wear a gown provided by the hospital. (You don't want bits of your fly zip or bra strap to start off at 400 mph do you?)

Now you will be taken to the scanning room. The nursing techinicians will lie you onto the table of the machine which will be taking you into and out of the machine - a tube quite a bit longer that the Polo mint of a CT. My drawing of an MRI machine above gives you some idea. You will be inside this tube for some time. I can only speak for myself. Scanning my liver involved having a fairly heavy plate placed over my stomach area for the duration of the scan. I've also had scans of my head/brain where I had to have a brace or mask made of plastic placed over my head to ensure it didn't move. It was more of a cage than a mesh so there was plenty of opportunity to see through it.

If you look for images of MRI units online they look a lot shorter than I have experienced and always have a cheerful nurse doing something and smiling reassuringly. In reality they will make sure you are in position on the table and will give you a rubber squeezy bulb in one hand which is a panic button to press if you can't cope. Note that I said "can't cope" and not "feel as if you can't cope". It is in your own best interests to go through with the scan until the end. They will then leave the room and go to monitor you and the progress of the scan from a safe place. You don't want their fly zips and bra straps flying at you either... At intervals they will ask you how you are doing and will reassure you during the scanning process.

My own pet phobia is of being in a constricted space and therefore before my first scan I was wondering how I would cope. When it came to being inside I did want to squeeze the bulb about halfway through (bearing in mind that for me (again I have to stress that point) for me the scan took somewhere between 20-30 minutes inside the machine. Which is incredibly noisy. You will have ear plugs and headphones placed into and over your ears but even so... Anyway, if you squeeze the bulb you will come out but you are going to have to try again from the start at some time. With that thought I managed to control myself enough to carry on. I'll be honest, I might have whimpered a bit once or twice but then just shut my eyes and braved it out. There's nothing to see anyway except the inside of the tube unless you really strain your eyes upward to see out of the top end.

You may have to have a dye injected into you via the canula in your wrist about halfway through the scan. This helps show up certain areas being scanned. It might feel cold and you might actually feel like you are urinating, but you won't be. All this will be explained to you before the scan and you will be told when the dye is going to be introduced.

It felt like a cool breeze was being blown by a fan down from the top end of the tube and that helped. The machine gives out a lot of very loud noise: clicks, gratering sounds (which are many clicks in quick succession I suppose)... At one point a pulse started in my forehead in time with a a particular beat from the machine. I actually thought water was dripping on my head but no.

At times during my scan I had to hold my breath to stop my lungs from moving the liver about. By default most MRIs ask you to breathe out and hold your breath. I can't do that. As a life-long asthmatic breathing out was always more difficult than breathing in, so when my lungs were empty I was in sore need of filling them again. I asked the technicians and they were happy to change the messages from the machine to ask me to breathe in and hold my breath.

I got through that first MRI. By now both due to the cancer and other side effects I've had around 30 of those scans and familiarity breeds acceptance. They don't worry me anymore. By the third one I was "Ok, so let's get this done and over with shall we?"

Once the scan is done, the operators will come back into the room, slide you out on the table, make sure you are not feeling dizzy or anything before sitting you up to get off the table and sitting you down on a chair before taking out the canula and making sure you are not going to bleed all over the place. I take blood thinners so require quite a lot of pressure on the spot when a needle or canula is removed.

So I hope that helps by knowing what such a visit to a scan might entail. Remember that these are my own particular experiences, yours may be slightly different. But it is definitely more frightening before experiencing it than it is when you are having it done.

Results will take a few weeks - four at least, though I am currently awaiting the results of my 31st MRI that was carried out six weeks ago... If I have anything else to tell you it is this: Be brave and go through with it. Far better to have it done so that any treatment can start that much more quickly. As always I wish you Good Luck with your treatment.

Cancer and Leg Ulcers Index
Family Memories: Personal Index