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All content by Nicole Willson. Copyright 2000. No stealing.

 

8/31 -- Once More Into the Breach, Otherwise Known as that Goddamn Fucking Noisy MRI Machine ...

Flash back to Tuesday night at 9:30. I should have been curled up on the sofa wrapped up in my favorite ratty blanket, drifting in and out of sleep after a busy day at work. Well, actually, I was curled up on the sofa wrapped up in my favorite ratty blanket. But then it was time to get up and go.

"I can't believe I thought an MRI at 10:30 was such a hot idea," I muttered as I huffed off to the car.

Getting a parking spot at the medical center is usually a royal pain in the ass, but we drove up to an empty parking lot and a pitch black building. "Gee. Hope we can get in. That would really suck if the building was all locked up and we had to come back some other time. Yup. Total and complete bummer. I'd really hate that," I said.

We had no problems getting in, as the building is apparently on the honor system of security: We'll leave this big place totally unlocked and virtually abandoned late at night, and any roaming psychos out there won't wander in and kill anyone coming in for a late appointment. Right? Right?? You couldn't help but feel just a little unsettled. Or at least I couldn't. What if some psycho came in and killed the MRI technician while I was in the machine and the Xrays just kept going on and on and on, and by the time someone found her I'd become some green irradiated glowing Skeletor Girl?

(Memo to Self: Stop watching those Court TV documentaries about wandering psychos like Richard Ramirez and the Railway Killer. Now. Thank you.)

Anyhow, we got to the office, I filled out the forms, and I smirked like an old pro while the technician explained the importance of remaining perfectly still during the machine's various bangings and grindings and whirrings. No problem. Piece o' cake.

Only it wasn't. The tech's voice piped in over the radio headphones after the second neck MRI: "I'm getting a lot of motion in this last series. You really need to hold perfectly still." What the hell? I knew that. I'd just freaking done this a few months before. I hadn't swallowed or moved or done anything I thought could mess up the scans. I tried to hold extrasuper still for the next series, and got the same complaint over the headphones. "Too much motion showing up in the xrays. They're bordering on unusable."

I told the tech I couldn't imagine what was wrong, but maybe I lied just a little. Before she wheeled me into the machine, she'd asked me what radio station I wanted to listen to and I answered "WHFS" by rote, even though I haven't listened to 'HFS since I last had MRIs in April. Big mistake. They weren't playing music. They were playing the truly execrable talk radio show "Lovelines." With the guys from "The Man Show."

"And now we've got John, a 17-year-old male, on the line."

"Uh yeah. Hi. I'm calling 'cause I have this problem? A while ago I noticed that whenever I was ... uh ... masturbating, I'd get these weird hand cramps? I didn't, like, do anything about it and so it got to the point where I was ... uh ... masturbating last week and I started having a grand mal seizure. You ever heard of anything like this?"

Sure. You try keeping a complete poker face while this stuff is blaring in your ears.

Anyhow, to make a long ramble a little shorter, I'm going to have to go get the neck MRIs redone. I breezed through the MRIs of my head, but I flunked "Neck MRI 101." I can't imagine what I did wrong, or at least what I did this time that I wasn't doing during the last neck MRIs a few months ago, but what can I say? I'm a bad, bad girl. And it seems that nothing is going to be simple this time around.

I'm not going to know the results of all this for a couple of weeks, but I shall keep you posted.

The next entry.

The previous entry.

One year ago: Bill and I went to our engagement party. We were up to much more pleasant things at this time last year. Sigh.

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