St. Mary MRI technician shares story of ambition, motherhood and how she saved one man’s life
By Samantha Bambino
The Times
It was just like any other night inside St. Mary Medical Center’s Imaging/Radiology department … at least that’s what Tara Huot thought when her shift began.
A man in his mid-60s who was suffering from severe headaches came in for a scheduled MRI scan. Huot, an MRI technician of nearly 20 years, went down her checklist as she always did, making sure he had no metal implants in his body, and providing him with a blanket and soothing background music for comfort.
But as images from the scan began to come through on her screen, Huot knew something was abnormal. Almost immediately, she spotted a large lesion on the patient’s brain. Though MRI technicians aren’t qualified to provide medical advice, Huot did the next best thing. She told the patient to wait a few moments while she asked the staff radiologist to take a look at the images, something she doesn’t normally do. Usually, the patient is free to go after the scan and receives their results the next day.
The “lesion” Huot saw was soon determined to be a brain tumor, which made driving highly dangerous for not only the patient, but others he may have encountered on the dark roads. He was then admitted to the ER, where the tumor was removed.
To hear Huot recall this story, a sense of humbleness is exuded. She simply placed one call to the radiologist. She was just doing her job. But that one call and attention to detail quite possibly saved more than one life that night.
During a rare afternoon break, this local mother of two sat down with The Times to share her international journey to becoming an MRI technician, and how she found a second family with the St. Mary community.
Since her adolescent years in Cambodia, Huot always had a passion for helping others and dreamed of one day becoming a nurse. But as a teenager, she discovered the endless possible career paths in the medical field. While at a doctor’s appointment with her mother, she saw an X-ray for the first time. There was just something about the machine that Huot felt drawn to.
In the years that followed, Huot received her bachelor’s degree from the University of Canada, fully intent on pursuing a career in radiography. But after coming to the states as an X-ray technician, Huot fell in love with the man who would soon become her husband. From there, everything changed.
An MRI technician himself, he showed her the ins and outs of radiology and just how fascinating the technology could be. Intrigued, Huot enrolled in a six-month MRI technician training program at the University of Pennsylvania, where her husband worked.
In 1999, only three months into her studies, Huot took a chance and applied for a job at St. Mary. The risk paid off.
“I was a student and they took me in,” she reflected. “They hired me as a tech.”
Huot received hands-on training from skilled St. Mary staff members, who granted her a flexible schedule as she completed her final classes. After graduation, Huot thrived at the hospital, which she referred to as a “second home.” But in the early 2000s, Huot made a tough decision. She said goodbye to her beloved position to raise her two children, both of whom were born at St. Mary.
The following years saw Huot and her family move from their Bristol-area home to Doylestown, with Huot working part-time for a handful of other health systems. Despite the increased travel time, she deeply missed her St. Mary family. In 2006, once her children were old enough to attend school, she came back as a part-time MRI technician.
“I love the people. I love the coworkers,” she said. “It’s a hike, but it’s worth it.”
Today, Huot is back to working full-time hours. As with any job, the days can be long, but she makes sure to treat every patient with the same level of attention and care. According to Huot, one vital question must always be asked before the patient steps foot in the MRI room — do they have any metal on or inside of them? Since the MRI is essentially a massive magnet, having someone with a metal implant in its vicinity could spell disaster.
“Even though they screen on the phone when they schedule, you’re the one who puts the patient on the table,” she said. “Even the tech aide, it comes down to you.”
Once it’s established the patient is metal-free, Huot takes extra care to ensure they’re as comfortable as possible. This includes having them change into a gown to eliminate restrictions of belts and other tight clothing, and encouraging them to use the bathroom beforehand.
Often, first-timers come into the experience with preconceived notions after hearing horror tales of claustrophobia from friends. Huot educates the patient, explaining how the scan isn’t harmful, and though the magnets can make a lot of noise, nothing will actually touch them. Patients are then able to choose their own music to listen to during the scan. Even for those with guilty pleasures of ’90s boy bands and country, Huot promises a judgment-free zone.
“We don’t care about us. It’s whatever you want to listen to,” she said. “Music really distracts them from the claustrophobia.”
Huot has also discovered that small comforts of home ease the nerves.
“Blankets. Warm blankets. Oh, they love it,” she said. “Blankets are the best if a patient’s anxious.”
The smile that stretches across Huot’s face as she speaks about her job is truly infectious, so it only makes sense that her oldest child, a rising high school senior, plans to follow in her footsteps and pursue an education in medicine. Though she grimaced at the thought of tuition, Huot takes pride in the fact that her own professional journey is helping her kin find their calling. ••
Samantha Bambino can be reached at [email protected]
