12.19.2006

This Is Not A Bill

I had my first MRI this afternoon. It was loud.

After a not-so-great half day at work, I rushed (sped) to my 2:15 appointment in Radiology on the second floor of one giant, medical building. I was checked in quickly and directed to the appropriate waiting area where I focused on calming myself in preparation for being shoved into a small, whirring, metal tube for the upcoming half hour. Naked. And cold.

Well, not totally naked. I had one of those open-to-the-world medical gown thingys and I was given a sad excuse for a blanket.

When my name was called from the waiting area, that moment where we all feel like "The Chosen One," I took a deep breath. Mind over matter. At least I didn't have to get on a scale. I was led all the way around the building through a maze of hallways, down some stairs and then OUTSIDE. At first I thought this was some kind of evil prank...or maybe the nurse who called me was actually a serial killer who had a car running at the back entrance waiting to abduct me. Instead I was led to what looked like a FEMA trailer IN THE PARKING LOT. I climbed up the stairs and the door opened to what looked like the set of an early Star Trek film.

I was instructed to remove my earrings, glasses, shirt, pants and bra after being quizzed again about the authenticity of my body parts. Apparently these giant magnets are pretty powerful and might extract artificial metal parts inside my body. Scary picture.

Scared of unauthorized metal insertions I may have forgotten about or may have never known about, I situate myself on a tiny sliding bed under the direction of the tech. There are plastic panels to hold my head in place, sort of like stationary book ends. As I was rolled into the tube, I realized why some people may freak out. It was close quarters in there...and loud. I was rolled back out of the tube and given ear plugs (a welcome gift), then rolled right back in...where I remained motionless abiding by the instructions of the tech.

What do you feel like doing when someone tells you that you absolutely can't move? Yes. I wanted to move. I needed to move. My nose itched, I started breathing faster, my hands twitched and I wondered if "don't move" included my eyes. It was a question I forgot to ask before the test began and consequently couldn't ask because I couldn't move my mouth. So I closed my eyes and eventually the whir, muffled by the ear plugs, put me into a light sleep.

Then it was over.

I quickly dressed (because there was an older gentlemen already getting prepared for his exam in this teeny, tiny trailer and no one seemed to remember or care that I wasn't yet dressed).

I was happy to find out this week, through much jumbled medical jargon, that I have almost met my deductible for the year with all of the physical therapy and Dr. visits. My back still hurts. Merry Christmas to me.

We should have results in 2-3 days from this test. My hopes are high for a resolution.

1 Comments:

Blogger Hollee said...

Had you begun watching "24" at the time you were being knapped in the back parking lot?
I always wondered what was in the trailor in the corner of the parking lot by the lake and closer to the interstate....you'd think that surely you wouldn't have to wear your gown across the lot? bizarre.

9/13/07, 8:21 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Newer Posts      Older Posts