Last night's nerve pain is persisting, so I've decided to go ahead with the MRI this week even though the GP wants me to wait a while and see how (and if) things settle. I can push through pain, but given that this is what let to my herniated lumbar disc 14 days ago, methinks probably best to go have a proper look in case the pain is actually flagging something.
An MRI machine is like an oversized hi-tech doughnut of whiz-bangery with a benign-looking plastic outer covering. It uses a magnetic field and radio waves to take pictures inside the body. People who suffer from claustrophobia are well advised to take a chill pill before immersing themselves in its bowels; I'm seeing it as an opportunity for a nice afternoon nap. The attendant radiologist advises me that the entire procedure with take about 15mins.
She also warns me that the oversized doughnut emits sounds akin to a machine gun firing, and obligingly hands me a set of headphones. There's an option to listen to "music" via the headphones, but the radiologist apologetically explains that they have a limited range of stations they're able to receive. And since I don't fancy subjecting myself to 15mins of either advertising or depressingly disastrous world news, I opt for the relative silence afforded by the headphones, such as it is.
The radiologist also hands me a panic button before vacating the room, since this is my only means of communicating with the outside world once the machine starts up. I settle in for my nap, and the bed I'm lying on whirrs its way into the doughnut hole. Unfortunately I'm obliged to hit the panic button as I realise too late that I've suffered a brain fail when stripping down to my underpants and donning the backward-facing gown I've been given: I forgot to take my brassiere off, and as the magnetic rays start to fire, its metal clips dance merrily against my back kinda like angry ants doing an on-the-spot war dance.
The attendant looks irritated when she comes back in and reverses my prostrate form from the guts of the doughnut. I hand her the offending brassiere and settle back down graciously. The doughnut receives me into its hollows once more.
Then starts a most fascinating symphony of rhythmic whirrs, buzzing, clicking and banging. It's such a fabulous concert that it makes me wish I had a recording of it to share around. I'd call it the Symphony in B flat, as in - be flat or you'll muck up the recording.
Lo and behold, I discover that YouTube audios/videos of MRIs abound!!
She also warns me that the oversized doughnut emits sounds akin to a machine gun firing, and obligingly hands me a set of headphones. There's an option to listen to "music" via the headphones, but the radiologist apologetically explains that they have a limited range of stations they're able to receive. And since I don't fancy subjecting myself to 15mins of either advertising or depressingly disastrous world news, I opt for the relative silence afforded by the headphones, such as it is.
The radiologist also hands me a panic button before vacating the room, since this is my only means of communicating with the outside world once the machine starts up. I settle in for my nap, and the bed I'm lying on whirrs its way into the doughnut hole. Unfortunately I'm obliged to hit the panic button as I realise too late that I've suffered a brain fail when stripping down to my underpants and donning the backward-facing gown I've been given: I forgot to take my brassiere off, and as the magnetic rays start to fire, its metal clips dance merrily against my back kinda like angry ants doing an on-the-spot war dance.
The attendant looks irritated when she comes back in and reverses my prostrate form from the guts of the doughnut. I hand her the offending brassiere and settle back down graciously. The doughnut receives me into its hollows once more.
Lo and behold, I discover that YouTube audios/videos of MRIs abound!!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.