
Originally Posted by
saintgomi
Here's the blog entry that Forrest referred to:
My MRI Adventure
8/22/07
My left arm remains lunch meat, so today I got an MRI in one of the old-fashioned enclosed models. My previous MRIs had been in comfy open ones. The enclosed ones seem to be where you get sent when you've really pissed off a radiologist.
The fun started when I walked into the MRI room. The first words out of the tech's mouth were, "I don't know if you'll fit." (I'm not a giant guy. I'm 5'10", 230 pounds.) I looked and saw a big white machine, like HAL in 2001, only it had a hole into the middle that might, on a good day, accommodate a naked, greased-up Dennis Kucinich. Who was this machine made for? Was it constructed in the 14th century when people were the size of baby ducks?
The techs tried stuffing me, feet first, into the MRI rabbit hole from two or three angles. None worked, and the last had me clawing my way out in a premature-burial-claustrophobia freakout. It finally occurred to all involved that since it was my elbow that needed imaging, I could try lying face down while they slid the top half of my body into the machine like man toast.
That worked. My left arm hurt because I had to straighten it, since the whole purpose of the MRI was to see how much bicep meat I'd ripped from the bone. Straightening my arm hurt a lot, but it hurt a lot more after being jammed in that goddam machine for 40 fucking minutes.
What's it like being in a creaky, steam-driven, WPA-era MRI? Noisy and weirdly rhythmic. Imagine lying facedown in a cement mixer while some methed-up Abu Ghraib prison guards pump hardfloor techno into your jittery metal tomb. Now imagine it with your obese, retard cousin, the one no one lets into the group photos at your family reunion, standing on your left elbow. For 40 minutes.
I only went in for an MRI, but by the time they pulled me out of the machine, I confessed to masterminding 9/11, running guns from Iran, knocking up Jenna Bush and canceling Veronica Mars.
This was not my best day ever, but now I am home with my cat, my girlfriend and leftover dim sum.
Seriously, though, who designed these ridiculous hobbit-size machines?
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