Today I had my third MRI scan, on my right hand in fact, but I still had to go in the big white sausage and be bombarded with all manner of interesting sounds. There I lay, on my front, arm extended and taped to a board so it would stay still. I imagined myself looking like John Travolta, you know the way he extends his arms in "Saturday Night Fever?" Great mover, John is but I, on the other hand was still as a rock. The pain was indescribable, from the shoulder to the finger tips, and as for the back and legs, well, I won't even go into that.
But it was in a good cause, as part of a research programme on the drug Arimadex, which will keep my breast cancer at bay, but make my bones fall to bits. You can't win 'em all. At least I am contributing to the field of medical science, as I pretend to be Mr. Travolta. Just to let you know that the lids are still on the tins of paint and may remain that way till I regain the power of my hands. Meanwhile, I'll just keep on taking the tablets.