Yes, I plan to show up, which is my way of making it clear – without invoking the support of The Good Lord or referring to a vow I never made – that I have every intention of doing just that, but that I am aware of the potential obstacles lurking out there somewhere. The MRI in question was ordered months ago by our urologist, Dr. Charm, and this was the earliest appointment I could get. If it didn’t happen as scheduled, who knows when… So, yeah, I definitely plan on being there.

Obstacle #1. Bright and early that morning (Thurs. June 19), we were summoned from the comfort of our bed to our saferoom by the clarion call of the siren. (We’re in a war, you know.) And that set us back a good half an hour before we received the all-clear message from Home Command. With the spotty bus service (obstacle #2), we should have been late, which we were, but only by three minutes. It was 9:03 when we made it somehow to the check-in office of the Imaging Department at Hadassah – two minutes after a call, Are you coming? WE’RE HERE!

Without any effort on my part, I have made it a relatively ripe old age without having any need for modern imaging technology (OK, except for an occasional ultrasound). But now in quick succession, I needed first a CT and now an MRI. You mean I have to lie still for half an hour without moving. How am I supposed to do that? What if I have to scratch my nose? Everyone around me said it’s not a big deal, but I was skeptical. Even so, I would have to do it. It’s not like I was having open heart surgery or some such.

I compared notes with Nachum, who informed me that for his MRI, they piped into the earphones some not-quite-there Tchaikovsky to ease the auditory pain. All I got was banging, clanging, throbbing, and thumping.  At some point in the middle of the noise, it started to sound like, ‘iPad, iPad, iPad, iPad,’ and then ‘paper, paper, paper, paper’ repeating endlessly. When you’re lying motionless in a chamber, even minds less wonderous than mine might go off in flights of fancy. Supposing in a galaxy far away, what we would consider noise would be their music. Imagine a concert hall filled with strange looking people – standing room only – listening ecstatically to a symphony of ‘iPad, iPad, iPad, iPad.’ We can only imagine what they hear during an MRI, but I have some ideas in mind.

And then after about a half an hour of banging, clanging, throbbing, and thumping, I heard the sweetest sound of all, the voice of the young technician saying, ‘siamnu’ (we’re done.) I was more than ready to go home. We have noisy neighbors and three cats, one of whom will demand that we move her food bowl from our bed to her closet. But no ‘iPad, iPad, iPad, iPad,’ or anything like that. The question remains, who is going to notice that I had this MRI, now that Dr. Charm is out of the picture?

Well not quite. He is referring us to the hospital’s Urology clinic, which is out in Ein Kerem. And for them, I will need an ultrasound. Fortunately, that could be done at our local Terem the following Monday. Except that I would once again need to do the procedure with a full bladder, meaning they’d have to monkey with my catheter to make that possible. Oh the unalloyed joy! But at least they’re prepared. Just as we were called in for our turn, there was an alert. Oh no! What do we do? Where do we go? But the technician did not even blink. It seems that our Terem is one huge safe room. Business as usual.

I thought that I would then be spared any more medical appointments the rest of the week, but I was wrong. I got a call from the young doctor I had seen the previous week. He had just noticed the results of the urine sample – supposedly sterile – I had donated. Totally out of whack; infections galore. He would call Dr. Charm and get back to me. I could hardly wait for the verdict. You’ll need to have the catheter changed. Where do I go for that? The emergency room. And you’ll need some medication. That’s not what I wanted to hear, but who was I to argue?

Bright and early the next day (Tues.), we were off, first to the Maccabi pharmacy. Take one of these pills for fourteen days, and no alcohol. It keeps getting worse, doesn’t it? Of course, I could do it. There are lots of things I could do – like flying somewhere – that I don’t want to. Alright, no alcohol. Next stop, the E.R. at Har Tzofim. Talk about déjà vu all over again. I went through the same admission process, and we were again whisked into the E.R., where among other things, they did a blood test. And would you believe it, when the results came back an hour or so later, there was nothing wrong with me. We don’t need to change your catheter. You can go home now. Stunned, but overjoyed, we didn’t need to be told twice. Let’s get outta here! We skedaddled as fast as we could without exceeding the speed limit.

Wait a minute, what just happened?  I was understandably confused by this turn of events. How could I have an infection one day and not the next? I don’t think it works that way. And if I don’t have an infection, do I need to keep taking the pills I got the day before at the pharmacy? Let’s get another opinion. Barbara scheduled a telephone appointment for the next day with our regular doctor, Adam Albert.  Let’s hope he can sort things out.

How can I help you today? And so I recounted what had just happened and received a reassuring answer. A urine sample taken from anywhere in a catheter will usually be contaminated; It doesn’t mean anything; it’s a waste of time. Back in the U.K. where our doctor got his training, nobody would even think of administrating such a test. The main thing, he asked, was how was I feeling?

(How am I feeling? When was the last time I could say that I’m feeling great? How about good? How about a week with no pain and nothing bothering me? But that would make me ineligible for the Oy Vey Club, which I’m trying to join.)

I understood what he was asking. Not if one of my molars was acting up or my back was bothering me. As far as the catheter was concerned, I was good, which is what he needed to hear. But there was one more question: If I don’t have an infection, do I need to keep taking these pills?

What I like in life is a good compromise. Since I started taking them the day before, finish the week – just to be safe. And I can have something to drink, but not so much. There’s a reason I like our doctor.

I will start off next week (Mon. Jule 30) with an appointment with a surgeon about dealing with my hernia, and, sooner or later, we will have to deal with getting me off the catheter. But I have a few days off for good behavior. Who would have thought that not having to see a doctor would be such a big deal?