Photograph by open.salon.com
Today was the day of my umpteenth and first MRI Scan, first you may ask, “What does MRI stand for? Mouse Repellent Insect, Mother Riley’s Invention or Mateus Rosé Imbibed”, not surprisingly, it is none of these it is in fact Magnetic Resonance Imaging this apparently gives a more detailed image of your insides than an X-Ray. Now you may ask, “If you’ve had so many scans why write about this one”, my answer, why not!
I arrived at reception and after five minutes, I Pinged the bell – a mistake – this clearly upset the receptionist who obviously had better thing to do than greet and deal with outpatients. She rattled off directions of how to get to the MRI Suite just like a machine gun. I cleared the frost from my glasses and went on my way, luckily I had been there before, if I hadn’t, I would never have remembered the directions I’d been given!
The atmosphere became noticeably warmer when a very cheerful nurse called Cathy called me in for my scan bang on time; we then went through the checklist, which is mainly to make sure that I take no metal into the scanner. Unfortunately, I have a denture, which has metal on it, so this had to come out. I am not sure if this is to stop the denture being whisked out of my mouth and smashed against the side of the scanner, or if it is to protect the multi-million pound machine from being damaged by rogue magnetic rays, the latter I would think. I then pick some music to listen to, Fleetwood Mac this time.
On to the scan, this time a very cheerful radiographer called Corinne, two out of three cannot be bad. She secured my head to the platform with a cradle (a damn site better than the web of belts and plastic buckles they used to use) then off we went. The platform slowly slides you into the scanner; it is a lot like being loaded into a washing machine head first while it is going! So now, I can empathise with my laundry!
Just before the scan starts, I hear the first two bars of Rhiannon; from then on, all I hear is the scanner, it sounds very much like original Tardis only ten times louder with additional whirrs and ker-plunks for effect. Forty minutes later it is all over, I emerge somewhat befuddled and unsteady on my feet, say thank you get changed and go home.
What I cannot understand is that the radiographer checked my scans to make sure there was no camera shake or red-eye; so why do I have to wait at least two weeks for the results? What was the scan for? That may well be the subject of a future blog!