MRI

Normal people spent the glorious autumn day outside, enjoying the last days of good weather before winter closes in on us. I spent the afternoon at Strong Hospital enduring an MRI.

No prep for this test, just a ream of paperwork to fill out. Have to make sure there is nothing metal about you! Take off your jewelry, leave you watch in the locker, remove the blouse with the metal beads. Do your shoes have metal inserts? I don't think so.

Surprise! They do! The minute I am strapped into the tray and the weird shaped antennae is belted over my chest, they move me into the tunnel, and it feels like gremlins are grabbing my feet. Out I come, they remove my shoes. My arms are hoisted over my head, they place a bulb in my left hand, in case I need to call for help, and they kindly put a headset over my ears playing the local classical radio station.

"Are you a shallow breather?" Stuart asked me (he was the gentle Asian man running the test). "Well, I am a singer. I generally tend to breathe a bit more deeply." "Take a breath," he instructs. I do. "Take another breath." He seems puzzled. "One more. Ah! You ARE a belly breather. So few people are." He hooks a wire around my belly. "This just lets me know when you are taking a breath. It helps me regulate things."

I am loaded into the canon again, sans metal plated shoes. I panic a bit. The space is very close. The ceiling of the tube less than two inches from your face, the walls are hard, unforgiving. It looks smaller than other machines I have been in, but its the same size. Just the entrance bore makes it look like the space is getting smaller. The test begins. I hear Stuart talking to me. "Breathe in. Hold your breath. Don't breathe." (I make myself count: one one thousand one, one one thousand two, . . . one one thousand fifteen, one one thousand sixteen, . . . one one thousand twenty three) "You can breathe." BREATHE! My lungs collapse in a whoosh of air out, expand in a satisfying air inflation. Stuart says it so casually, as if my lungs were not burning from oxygen deprivation, as if my chest were not screaming 'take a breath NOW!'

Again and again we repeat the pattern, sometimes for 17 seconds, sometimes for 27, sometimes for 12. That was the liver part. Then we move on to the pelvic part. Stuart brings me out and says I can put my arms by my side. He wraps them mummy like with sheets so I won't get a burn if I should accidentally touch the magnet. I can't hold onto any thing. This is a proposition in how long can you hold your arms by your side without resting them on anything. He loads me into the bore.

"No. NO, I can't do this." I yell. Its like being in a coffin. I can't wiggle, I am totally squished. Stuart brings me out. "Hey, I thought you were gonna jump right outta there!" he grins. I position my arms over my head again, he still wraps them in the sheets. Then in I go again.

No holding your breath here, just enduring beeping, buzzing, banging. I am positive there is a jackhammer being used in this tunnel. Or at least an unserviced lawn mower. It goes on and on. At one point, I realized the buzzing is happening in tandem with my breathing. When I exhale, and in the few seconds before I inhale, they buzz. Then I realize I can play games with this one. If I don't inhale as quickly, they can buzz longer. Maybe it will speed things up. And when I need to take a deep breath, they wait patiently until I am done before buzzing again.

We move on to a number of different patterns (Stuart calls them tests). I have been in the blasted tube almost two hours. My shoulders and arms hurt. My muscles are tensing. I consciously make myself relax. I try to "go to my quiet place" but the pain is interfering with my ability to concentrate.

I begin quoting Bible verses. "He has promised never to leave me or forsake me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me." Even in the heart of a huge magnet. Even after hours of lying still on a hard surface.

I think of that little girl who fell down a pipe in her back yard, and was stuck there for three days. I think her name was Jessica. She was just little - maybe three years old. And scared. And no one could reach her. I am fortunate I am not in some emergency situation, not facing death, not without knowing that within a short time my agony will be over. I am fortunate I can get this test done. I have the resources, the insurance, the doctor. I refuse to complain.

The final step. They pull me out, and the nurse comes to start an IV so they can inject a contrast solution. No, not IVP. Stuart tells me the name of the substance. Something that starts with a g and is an earth element, not related to IVP in any way. I tell her my veins are small, and she looks. "Yup. But this is by power injection, I can't use a smaller needle, I will just have to get a larger vein. She does! First stick. Thank you Lord.

Back in I go. Stuart's voice interrupts Mahler's Third. "Injecting now." My arm feels cold, then my whole body. I am a bit dizzy and feel faint and nauseous. Stuart is telling me to hold my breath. I do, fearful that I am going to pass out. I want to tell him. I wait to see if it will pass. My mouth tastes funny. Kind of tinny. The faintness is passing. After the third round of holding my breath, I am only cold and my mouth still tastes funny.

This round is for both liver and pelvis. But not so many tests. In a matter of twenty minutes, I am done. Stuart helps me out of the machine, helps me lower my cramped arms, unhooks the wires and removes the antennae and the pads. he helps me sit up, chatting about his daughter's interests in singing, how she wants to be on American Idol. We laugh.

I wobble out of the room, buckle on my magnetic shoes, and wander back to the dressing room, stopping first at the bathroom. I wonder vaguely if the radioactivity from the PET scan will interfere with the MRI. Surely they wouldn't have scheduled them 2 days apart if they did. Well, 2 and a half hours after entering, I exit to the parking lot and the sunny day. They have very thoughtfully provided parking validation so I don't have to pay.

Done. Let's not do it again anytime soon. Thanks.