That’s what the MRI tech said this week as I underwent not one, but two MRIs.
Oh, just a tad.
I’ll have to admit I was suspicious when she gave me ear plugs, and slid me into a coffin like behemoth.
“Why the MRIs?”, you ask.
Well, seems I’m not as young as I once was and Arthur may have come to visit.
Arthritis, that is. Elbow, shoulder, and I’m sure it’ll show UP somewhere else.
Never having experienced and MRI before, I really didn’t know what to expect, and quite frankly, the tech didn’t give me the thorough education I’d have liked on what was occurring.
So, the first one was stressful. Flat on my back, a cup of sorts around my right shoulder, I was shoved into a tube for 40 minutes.
Who knew I had a touch of the claustrophobia as well?
Once I convinced myself that the lower half of my body was out of the machine, and if push came to shove, I could slide out.
I’m sure that would have complicated things.
So, when the second one came about, I spent a few minutes looking over the machine, familiarizing myself with the surrounding, and getting the lay of the land, if you will.
The tech said, “This one will be more uncomfortable, you have to lay on your side and hold your arm still for about 30 minutes.”
But, you know, it wasn’t.
A. I sleep on my side, so the position was ok.
B. She weighted my arm, so there was no chance in Helvetica it was going to move.
C. I decided it wasn’t going to get the best of me.
The tech also advised that I not fall asleep.
Like that was going to happen!
The noise of the MRI is like the nuclear warnings from “War Games”.
Baap Baap Baap for 3-5 minutes at a time while the machine does its thing.
MRI, or medical resonance imaging was born the year I was born, 1952, when Herman Carr, and Harvard grad and sadist, produced a one dimensional MRI.
Over the last 61 years, the device has been UPgraded, perfected, and has saved thousands of lives.
It is a medical miracle, but, let me tell ya, you’re going to hear some noise.