MRI Hell
Yesterday I underwent my first MRI. I've come up with "Machine Real Annoying," but that doesn't do justice to the psychological damage I was given. I had been warned by my father that it is horrible for people (like him) who are easily claustrophobic. He said he was screaming to be let out 15 minutes into the 45 minute session he had. But, that's my dad, and he's sensitive. He's had so much medical testing done on his body for the past 25 years, his psyche is a withered apple that's been cored, prodded and choked. He is a very tired person, and I'd understand why he'd be just plain "through" when it came to lying in a 2 foot tall tunnel for half an hour while the sound of something like a bomb alarm was 2 inches away from your ear.
I, on the other hand, am a fresh patient; my noodle has not been challenged quite as much as a 64-yr-old man. Though, I've had some serious injuries and surgeries over the years including a broken neck and invasive surgery on my girl bits, I never thought this would be one of the worst medical procedures done to me. This procedure, my friends, ranks #2 in my all-time mind-fucking Clockwork Orange tests done to my what is now fragile brain strength. And, that is only because blood wasn't involved.
#1 was having 2 wisdom teeth pulled out without only a small dose of local anesthetic in 2004. Imagine a screwdriver being ground into your gums while trying to keep your jaw bones from cracking apart while hearing them crunch and snap. Then, imagine the dentist wiping the sweat from his face and climbing down from my chair that I'd crawled to the very top of in absolute painful fear, and him saying, "We're gonna have to take a break, after 30 minutes of drilling, they just aren't coming out." And, then he turns around, pics something up on the surgery tray and in a manner invoking Dr. Giggle's begins maniacally laughing at me while hiolding up 2 large wisdom teeth covered in bloody chunks of my gummy flesh. I wanted to spit in his mouth.
The reason for the #2 Mind-fucking Medical Procedures was a severe lumbar pain I've been experiencing for the past 2 years. At some point, I pulled a muscle around my lumbar. When it flares up from running or walking too long without supportive shoes, it feels like someone is literally stabbing me in the lower back with a pen. Actually, that might feel better. Most of the time, I am somewhere far from home when this happens, I hobble to the nearest bus stop praying I won't have to scream from pain on my way back home. At home I usually take 800 mg Ibuprofen, sit on an icepack and basically can't walk for the rest of the day. I decided after 2 years that I will not stand for any more of this muscular aggression, man. Of course, the doctor can't do a think until I pay him at least 3 grand for X-rays and and a MRI. Yesterday, I booked my MRI. I had been told that I can request a Valium or Xanex for anxiety before going in the tunnel. I asked the technician for one only because I wanted a Valium, not because I have sever claustrophobia, though I was tad freaked from seeing that scene from The Exorcist one too many times. They said I couldn't have one unless I had someone there to sign off as a designated driver. Dern! Oh well, this'll only take 30 minutes. I put on a gown, my eye glasses were removed, was handed ear plugs, my eyes were covered with a towel and my body wrapped in a warm blanket, and then I was sent down the rabbit hole. Along the way the technicians mentioned that the beeping sound might be loud at first but will get softer over the 30 minutes. You'll never know how thankful I was for the eye covering and ear plugs.
As I rolled backwards into the tunnel, with my blurry vision I looked through the slit and felt like I was curving around a horseshoe-shaped tunnel. I found out later that the tunnel was just straight and barely covered the length of my body. This is the disadvantage I had as a blind person, which sometimes gives me optical illusions or a slight case of the dizzies. Let the races begin. A LOUD AS FUCK alarm bell began piercing my ear drums for the next 3 minutes. "BAH, BEEP, BAH, BEEP, BAH, BEEP.......!!!!!" My heart rate shot up and my hands holding an emergency release cord began to sweat. Then, the alarm silenced and the smooth voice of the female technician came through the speakers tenderly asking how I was doing. "As good as I can be, I guess." This procedure continued on with different types of LOUD AS FUCK bells, alarms, synthesizer sounds for the next 20 minutes. There is nothing you can think about but the horrible death bells in your ears. You are stuck. But, it's only a 30 minute ride, and the lady just said we only had a few more to go....
Something happened to me when I had 11 minutes left.
My skin was peeling off and my heart was suddenly in my hands.
Bloody tears were streaming down my face and I was about to die.
I was having a small panic attack, I think....
The Smooth Lady Voice came through the speakers again, "Are you alright in there?"
"How much time do we have left? How many more of these???????," I panted.
"You have 6 minutes on the next one and 5 minutes after that and then your done."
6 minutes???!!!!! 6 minutes????!!!! 666 MINUTES??????
That was by far the longest set to be done. I could barely keep my shit together for 2 minutes. I began pumping myself up, imaging that it was all going to be a laugh later on when I told my dad and Dave about how awful this was, but I made it through, I survived, I'm a survivor.
Then, Smooth Lady says, "Be still, herrree we go!"
BAH BAH BAH beee beee BAH BAH BAH. ZZZZzzzzzzziiiiieeeeeaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhh
I was deliriously trying to make the synthetic beepy noise into a really bad Radiohead song. Akin to comparing the Muppet Baby Band to the Muppet Show Band. This would be Radiohead Babies sound when they were little babies trying to make music. Imagine little Johnny Greenwood pressing his doorbell over and over while he turned a lawn mower on and off, on and off and on. Then, he'd grow up to be Johnny Greenwood in a really good band called Radiohead, and he'd make really great soundtrack music for films like "Body Sounds" and "There Will Be Blood."
BAH BAH BAH beee beee BAH BAH BAH. ZZZZzzzzzzziiiiieeeeeaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhh
The heat seeping up through the sides of the machine I was warned to keep my arms away from gave my body the affect that i was being cremated, but I couldn't move my arms because then I'd have to start all the way over with my 6 minutes and I couldn't start over because I had already started over with the first set and that was very bad and I couldn't do that again or I might start really frying, my brain IS bubbling over
silence....
"One
more
left."
I had accepted death at this point. Who cared if she blared beeps into my ears for another 5 minutes because this would go on for eternity because I was in HELL.
BAH BAH BAH beee beee BAH BAH BAH. ZZZZzzzzzzziiiiieeeeeaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Then.
It was over.
As I was rolled back out, I reached for my glasses Smooth Lady had in her hands and quickly jumped off the table. I asked her why the noise? She said something about the machine reacting to my internal rhythms when it resorts my atoms. Or something like that....
I don't know, I wasn't listening, I couldn't hear. I was a burnt noodle. I was broken. Shattered. Done.
Let this be a lesson to me about movie making. There is always a bit of truth in rumors or stereotypes. And, they were not fucking lying when they shot that MRI scene for "The Exorcist."
I coudn't find the actual horrible MRI scene from the movie, but I did find something that's pretty funny and gives you an idea of what my mental state was by the end of the process. Just imagine that I'm Linda Blair and the MRI technicians are Ellen Burstyn and Dr. Klein. Turn up your volume. Don't be afraid.
Wait until the end for the funny part....
I, on the other hand, am a fresh patient; my noodle has not been challenged quite as much as a 64-yr-old man. Though, I've had some serious injuries and surgeries over the years including a broken neck and invasive surgery on my girl bits, I never thought this would be one of the worst medical procedures done to me. This procedure, my friends, ranks #2 in my all-time mind-fucking Clockwork Orange tests done to my what is now fragile brain strength. And, that is only because blood wasn't involved.
#1 was having 2 wisdom teeth pulled out without only a small dose of local anesthetic in 2004. Imagine a screwdriver being ground into your gums while trying to keep your jaw bones from cracking apart while hearing them crunch and snap. Then, imagine the dentist wiping the sweat from his face and climbing down from my chair that I'd crawled to the very top of in absolute painful fear, and him saying, "We're gonna have to take a break, after 30 minutes of drilling, they just aren't coming out." And, then he turns around, pics something up on the surgery tray and in a manner invoking Dr. Giggle's begins maniacally laughing at me while hiolding up 2 large wisdom teeth covered in bloody chunks of my gummy flesh. I wanted to spit in his mouth.
The reason for the #2 Mind-fucking Medical Procedures was a severe lumbar pain I've been experiencing for the past 2 years. At some point, I pulled a muscle around my lumbar. When it flares up from running or walking too long without supportive shoes, it feels like someone is literally stabbing me in the lower back with a pen. Actually, that might feel better. Most of the time, I am somewhere far from home when this happens, I hobble to the nearest bus stop praying I won't have to scream from pain on my way back home. At home I usually take 800 mg Ibuprofen, sit on an icepack and basically can't walk for the rest of the day. I decided after 2 years that I will not stand for any more of this muscular aggression, man. Of course, the doctor can't do a think until I pay him at least 3 grand for X-rays and and a MRI. Yesterday, I booked my MRI. I had been told that I can request a Valium or Xanex for anxiety before going in the tunnel. I asked the technician for one only because I wanted a Valium, not because I have sever claustrophobia, though I was tad freaked from seeing that scene from The Exorcist one too many times. They said I couldn't have one unless I had someone there to sign off as a designated driver. Dern! Oh well, this'll only take 30 minutes. I put on a gown, my eye glasses were removed, was handed ear plugs, my eyes were covered with a towel and my body wrapped in a warm blanket, and then I was sent down the rabbit hole. Along the way the technicians mentioned that the beeping sound might be loud at first but will get softer over the 30 minutes. You'll never know how thankful I was for the eye covering and ear plugs.
As I rolled backwards into the tunnel, with my blurry vision I looked through the slit and felt like I was curving around a horseshoe-shaped tunnel. I found out later that the tunnel was just straight and barely covered the length of my body. This is the disadvantage I had as a blind person, which sometimes gives me optical illusions or a slight case of the dizzies. Let the races begin. A LOUD AS FUCK alarm bell began piercing my ear drums for the next 3 minutes. "BAH, BEEP, BAH, BEEP, BAH, BEEP.......!!!!!" My heart rate shot up and my hands holding an emergency release cord began to sweat. Then, the alarm silenced and the smooth voice of the female technician came through the speakers tenderly asking how I was doing. "As good as I can be, I guess." This procedure continued on with different types of LOUD AS FUCK bells, alarms, synthesizer sounds for the next 20 minutes. There is nothing you can think about but the horrible death bells in your ears. You are stuck. But, it's only a 30 minute ride, and the lady just said we only had a few more to go....
Something happened to me when I had 11 minutes left.
My skin was peeling off and my heart was suddenly in my hands.
Bloody tears were streaming down my face and I was about to die.
I was having a small panic attack, I think....
The Smooth Lady Voice came through the speakers again, "Are you alright in there?"
"How much time do we have left? How many more of these???????," I panted.
"You have 6 minutes on the next one and 5 minutes after that and then your done."
6 minutes???!!!!! 6 minutes????!!!! 666 MINUTES??????
That was by far the longest set to be done. I could barely keep my shit together for 2 minutes. I began pumping myself up, imaging that it was all going to be a laugh later on when I told my dad and Dave about how awful this was, but I made it through, I survived, I'm a survivor.
Then, Smooth Lady says, "Be still, herrree we go!"
BAH BAH BAH beee beee BAH BAH BAH. ZZZZzzzzzzziiiiieeeeeaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhh
I was deliriously trying to make the synthetic beepy noise into a really bad Radiohead song. Akin to comparing the Muppet Baby Band to the Muppet Show Band. This would be Radiohead Babies sound when they were little babies trying to make music. Imagine little Johnny Greenwood pressing his doorbell over and over while he turned a lawn mower on and off, on and off and on. Then, he'd grow up to be Johnny Greenwood in a really good band called Radiohead, and he'd make really great soundtrack music for films like "Body Sounds" and "There Will Be Blood."
BAH BAH BAH beee beee BAH BAH BAH. ZZZZzzzzzzziiiiieeeeeaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhh
The heat seeping up through the sides of the machine I was warned to keep my arms away from gave my body the affect that i was being cremated, but I couldn't move my arms because then I'd have to start all the way over with my 6 minutes and I couldn't start over because I had already started over with the first set and that was very bad and I couldn't do that again or I might start really frying, my brain IS bubbling over
silence....
"One
more
left."
I had accepted death at this point. Who cared if she blared beeps into my ears for another 5 minutes because this would go on for eternity because I was in HELL.
BAH BAH BAH beee beee BAH BAH BAH. ZZZZzzzzzzziiiiieeeeeaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Then.
It was over.
As I was rolled back out, I reached for my glasses Smooth Lady had in her hands and quickly jumped off the table. I asked her why the noise? She said something about the machine reacting to my internal rhythms when it resorts my atoms. Or something like that....
I don't know, I wasn't listening, I couldn't hear. I was a burnt noodle. I was broken. Shattered. Done.
Let this be a lesson to me about movie making. There is always a bit of truth in rumors or stereotypes. And, they were not fucking lying when they shot that MRI scene for "The Exorcist."
I coudn't find the actual horrible MRI scene from the movie, but I did find something that's pretty funny and gives you an idea of what my mental state was by the end of the process. Just imagine that I'm Linda Blair and the MRI technicians are Ellen Burstyn and Dr. Klein. Turn up your volume. Don't be afraid.
Wait until the end for the funny part....
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