Читать книгу Brainstorm - Sheldon J.D. Cohen - Страница 15

Meanwhile, Gail was busy researching the subject of brain tumors. She got good news and bad news. The good news was that George did not complain of headaches, a major symptom. Yet he did have an episode of vomiting, which could also be symptomatic of a brain tumor. Still, she suspected his ulcer might have triggered the vomiting. Her paramount concern was his mental change, an initial symptom in twenty five percent of all brain tumor cases. The findings included personality changes, confusion, disorientation, behavior changes, and complete psychosis. She convinced herself of her need to confront him now. She needed to make certain he got the MRI. She telephoned Dr. Crowell’s office. He was away for a week at a post-graduate course, but his nurse lost no time scheduling the MRI and providing Gail with full instructions.

That evening when she mentioned having scheduled his MRI George flew into a rage. He picked up a nearby stack of books and slammed them on the floor. “What? Who told you to do that?” he shouted. Such an unexpected display of anger at this time caught Gail off-guard, and she started to cry. “You promised,” she choked through her sobs.

George had enough presence of mind to realize that Gail was displaying raw emotion in a way that she had not done before. He realized the need to placate her, and calmed himself down.

“Okay, I’ll go, but it’s a waste of time.” Gail made the appointment.

He was unhappy, but he convinced himself to get it over with.

The hospital technologist explained the procedure for the MRI to him and asked if he was claustrophobic. When he assured her he was not, she assisted him in lying down on the table and covered his eyes with a cloth to help him relax. Then she guided him into the tunnel. Seconds later, he slithered off the table and landed on the floor. As he was panting and hyperventilating, the worried technologist rushed to his side.

“Don’t be afraid, it happens sometimes.”

He was trembling. “It felt like I was buried inside a casket.”

“I won’t use a cloth over your eyes,” she said. “When you enter the tunnel look towards your feet, so you’ll see outside the tunnel and know you’re safe and not surrounded by it on all sides.”

He fought the urge to leave, but controlled himself. When the technologist gave him an injection of contrast material to ‘light up’ a possible abnormality, his ordeal was soon over and he was free to go.

“How was it?” asked Gail.

“A piece of cake.”

The following two days were nerve-wracking for Gail while she waited for the test results. The news was good. His MRI was perfect. There was not a single abnormality.

“Now are you satisfied?” he said. “My brain, like everything else, works just fine.”

Gail let out an audible sigh. “Better get to work,” she told him.