Rosy

This afternoon I had my first MRI, in continuum of the saga that is my chronic lower back pain.

The latest diagnosis has been sacro-ilial inflammation. Sounds cool, doesn't it?

They ask you a couple dozens of questions to make sure you're okay to have this procedure. And they ask 'em, the same set, 3 times. First my doctor, who referred me to the MRI Dept. Then the MRI person who called to schedule an appointment for me. Then on the actual day of admission.

Everything related to metal, of course. I didn't even know there could be so many reasons a person may be a metal-carrier.

Have you worked with machinery?

Has a bullet been lodged in you? Are pellet fragments embedded?

Do you have a penile implant?

No, no, no. Geez.

They sure take plenty of safety measures even before putting that hospital ID bracelet on you. Ah, the dreaded hospital ID bracelet. It's like a just-in-case body tag.

For peeps who ask a lot of questions, they sure don't warn you of one thing until the last minute: the noise. It was LOUD. The technician had given me earplugs and i found myself wondering during the process, "Are these things working??" (They were, as i would find out afterwards when the technician returned and sounded muffled.)

It was not just the volume, which in itself was challenging for someone who may have sensory integration disorder (they didn't ask that, did they). It pulsated, and the beat varied. The scans were done at intervals with brief breaks, the duration of each increasing as we progressed. It was like a rave party, but without melody and without the drugs. NOT a fun time. Between that and the pressure to hold very still, i tensed up, virtually involuntarily. At one point my left thigh muscles became so tight, i thought i was gonna spasm and fuck it up.

Who knew twenty minutes can feel like an eternity? During the last couple of minutes i actually ceased to believe it would ever end. It's some kind of torture. I'll talk, I'll give you what you want. Just let me out!

And then the "music" stopped.

Silence had never been more rhodium.

As the technician finished up, explaining what to expect to happen next as I prepared to exit, she wrapped it up by smiling. And she said:

And happy Valentine's Day!