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MRI Stands for Marvelous Reclining Incident! 

I did not post yesterday because my immune system, in sympathy with the knee, just said "Oh, f it all" and plunged me into fever, phlegm, and a permanent state of coughing.  This was particularly awesome since I'm painfully short on sick leave as it is; the federal government, apparently, would like to increase the ability of its new employees to hurl new and foreign germs upon the rest of the workforce.  Well played, federal government!

So I've now gone from no sick leave to negative sick leave even before my loose body and I part ways.  This means that the government now, quite literally, owns not only my soul, but my body and all its once and future viruses as well.

Some of the minuscule sick leave was hurled down an MRI-shaped hole before the phlegm even presented itself.  Like most total non-athletes whose medical concerns are limited to the psyche and the colon, I've never had an MRI before.  I knew a great deal of noise was involved; I was vaguely aware that someone would probably ask me to remove my underwear.  In this respect, it was much like every single college date ever.

There was also, I'd heard, some sort of tube in the mix.  This was indeed the case, but before the tube and I were permitted to reach a first-name basis, the technician had some questions for me.

"Do you have any artificial limbs?" she asked as I stashed my panties beneath the forlorn pile of khakis and dryclean-only polyester which marks my Big Girl work clothes. And then as a follow on, it became clear that, to have an MRI, the techs need to know exactly how big a redneck they are dealing with here.

"Any non-visible piercings?"

"Currently experiencing breakout symptoms of a sexually transmitted disease?"

"Tattoos on the back or private parts?"

"Breast implants?"

"Artificial but permanently attached hair products?"

"Decorative metal teeth caps?"

I was then asked which type of music I wished to listen to during the procedure.  I turned excitedly to the list on the wall, for surely, here was my big, big chance to try out this "XM Radio" all the kids are talking about.  But no:  The list was of local radio FM stations, two of which offered country.

Now came the conundrum.  I could listen to a general pop feed, but this virtually assured exposure to Britney Spears, with no way to change the station.  Or, I could choose one of the country offerings, and run the risk of encountering Tim McGraw, Shania Twain, Taylor Swift, or Faith Hill, also with no way to change the station.  But since one Britney equals four Nashville unbearables, I took my chances with the country station.

As it happens, holding a rogue knee really, really still becomes as painful as mounting a StairMaster and setting it to "Patellar Dislocation." But nothing was so uncomfortable as the realization that, with eight minutes of imaging still to come, "Nothing to Die For" cued up over the headphones.  There's holding very still while an enormous freaking magnet sweeps over your body, and then there's holding very still while an enormous freaking magnet sweeps over your body as Tim McGraw tells you how to live your life.

I should've copped to the non-visible piercings.

soft tissue at:  mbe@drinktothelasses.com

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Reader Comments (4)

[...] An MRI for the ages Share and Enjoy: [...]

"Any non-visible piercings?”

“Currently experiencing breakout symptoms of a sexually transmitted disease?”

“Tattoos on the back or private parts?”

“Breast implants?”

“Artificial but permanently attached hair products?”

“Decorative metal teeth caps?”

Why don't they just ask "Are you a rapper/hip-hop artist?" and be done with it?

April 9, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterred pill junkie

The only joy of having the pacemaker is knowing I can NEVER EVER go through the MRI again.

April 9, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKelle Belle

Could have been worse. You could have been subjected to "Live Like You Were Dying."

April 13, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterINCITEmarsh
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