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27 March 2012

I had an MRI today

Nothing too serious, just wanted to check my oversized cranial region for any signs of migraine causing activity. Not sure what they found, however I am sure that the outfit they made me wear will probably be hitting the runways this spring because it. is. sexy. And it folds over in the back in all sorts of awkward ways, with strings that are supposed to tie together in some fashion, all the while doing its best not to fly open and flash the world my bootay.

 The nurse took me back into a tiny little changing room. Take off everything, but leave your underwear and shoes on...and remove any piercings before you go in. At this point, my brain immediately flashes to my bellybutton piercing a-la-Britney Spears in 2002. Why putting a hole there was a good idea to me at the time, I'll never know. But I don't have the heart to take it out yet and accept my adulthood and my future childbearing years. Now it will take 30 minutes, and halfway through, we'll inject you with some dye to see what's going on in there. First of all, 30 minutes?! In that tiny little space? I was starting to panic. And injecting me with dye involved a needle if I was not mistaken, and I was under the impression that my body would get in and out of this appointment unscathed. I was also fairly certain that they were going to need to get the extra large head apparatus to hold my head in place - adjustments were definitely made to accommodate, but apparently my head wasn't the largest one they'd ever encountered. Surprisingly.

Once inside, the machine started making all of these bizarre noises. Ticks, buzzings, vibrations. Was this an MRI or an amusement park {the lamest one, no doubt}? The voice of the nurse came through the machine, now be sure not to move your head. How did she think voluntary head movement was even possible? There were cushions all around me, holding my head in place, and this bizarre mask like thing put over my face. The idea of moving was terrifying; I didn't want to accidentally poke my eyes out.

20 minutes in, and the nurse comes out with the needle. I'm fairly certain the blood had completely flowed out of my brain at this point out of terror, and I tell her that I'm a little nervous. Oh don't worry, you'll be fine, you won't even feel it. Lie. I am good at this,and you're lucky, the doctor has to poke me 3 or 4 times before they find my vein! Speaking of, where IS that vein of yours? Let's try the other arm. Great. My left arm is apparently veinless. One shot is all you get, lady. Sorry. Thank goodness she found the vein in my right arm on the first try, and the next ten minutes of the clanking, ticks, buzzing went fast.

I wish they would have given me a lollipop or something. Or a sticker. Why they stop that practice after the age of 12 I'm not sure, but I think we old folk deserve a good job or a high five or something after leaving the doctors. Maybe I'll treat myself to some ice cream later, or something...

1 comment:

  1. Emily-- this is really funny-- Glad you survived!

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