My very first open MRI

In a meeting earlier this week, a coworker indicated that she would have to leave early because of an appointment. She was going to the dentist to be prepped for a new crown. I could tell that she was none too excited about the prospect. She said that, “my medical experiences seem to always be different that everyone else’s.”

I immediately thought about my “open” MRI experience. I am not particularly well versed in all aspects of medical technology, and didn’t know anything about MRI. However, the fact that they kept stressing that the MRI would be “open” made me a little nervous. I did a little research and found out that a typical MRI was a tube, roughly half the size of a small slide at the playground at McDonald’s. This was not good news for a “big boned” guy like myself. Oh, by the way, I wouldn’t be screaming and sliding through real fast with all my friends. I’d be alone, need to lie still and going through really S-L-O-W-L-Y.

Yippee!

But they kept saying OPEN.

When I got the read-ahead package from the Imaging Center, the words were oh so reassuring. Right there in the first page it said, “New technology allows us to now get high quality images in a more open environment; and “Open MRI & CT Specialists will supply suitable clothing for your examination.” OK, maybe it will be like a full sized McDonald’s slide. Maybe I won’t get stuck in there, naked. Luckily, they scheduled this out at least three weeks so I would have adequate time to think about it, (make out my will, plan my funeral, prearrange with my “final needs specialist.”)

Finally my day came. I arrived with all my forms, insurance cards, letter from my doctor, (note to my next of kin.) I was not in the lobby but a few minutes before Ginger escorted me back to the dressing room. She gave me a nice bag that contained my “suitable clothing for my examination.” It didn’t take long to understand how relative the term, “suitable” really is. This was clearly from the “Minimal Modesty” collection of some medical supply house. They probably paid more for the wordsmithing on the brochure than for this thin, breezy toga.

As Ginger escorted me into the examining room, she explained that some people were unnerved by the gentle thumping sound of the MRI machine, and headphones were provided so I could relax and listen to soothing music during my MRI. “What kind of music do you prefer?” she asked.

I said that most any kind of light stuff would be good; smooth jazz, soft rock, classical, just about anything but country or rap.

Ginger turned me over to Bertha. Bertha assured me that this would take only 20-30 minutes. (20-30 minutes? No one had told me it would take 20-30 minutes while I had my clothes on.) She confirmed my music choices, helped me on the table, (which had been chilled just for me,) put my headphones on me and said that she would be “just behind that glass, during the entire session.”

That was the last I saw of Bertha for a LONG TIME.

I closed my eyes and began to relax to the soothing soft-rock music of the “60’s, 70’s and 80’s” as I began my slow move. In fact, I was almost asleep when Karen Carpenter morphed into Merle Haggard. Merle Haggard? My eyes flew open and I saw where my feet were headed. “Oh my word, this is like a conveyor belt in a pizza oven, except it’s a microwave.”

I felt like I was doing an up-close visual inspection of the underbelly of the Starship Enterprise. THUNK-THUNK-THUNK. Ginger, you said, “gentle thumping.” This is like Main Street on Saturday night.

I didn’t even know there was an “all Haggard, all the time station,” but ole Merle’s music was so painful, he kept my mind off the “gentle thumping” and the underbelly of the Enterprise. When Ginger and Bertha helped me off the table, I was in pretty good shape, except my jaw muscles were cramping from grinding my teeth.

Looking back, I guess it could have been worse; ole Merle could have been rapping…..