I have a breast MRI scheduled for September 4th. It’s similar to a regular MRI in that they put you on a table and slide you into a tunnel. It’s different in that you’re lying face down with your boobs hanging down into their own little compartment, and your arms outstretched in front of you–one with an IV in it, one holding a thing to squeeze if you need something—in a Superman pose. You are not allowed to move—for an hour.
They give you your choice of music to listen to over headphones while you’re in this thing. Doesn’t that sound nice? Well, yeah, you’d think so wouldn’t you? The reality is that the MRI makes this horrible racket and you can barely hear the music. Imagine a cross between an alarm clock and the Emergency Broadcast System…now throw in your music, but not loud enough to actually hear well. If you want the full effect of *my* previous experience, make sure that your nose is running. Wait! Don’t sniff too hard—no moving allowed, remember?
I capped it all off by having a coughing fit. (Of course I did—it’s me) I squeezed the call thing and the technician came through my headset with “Are you okay?” To which I replied *HACK* COUGH* *GASP* *COUGH* Can I get a drink?* COUGH* SNORT*. They pulled me out, gave me a cup of water—but wouldn’t let me raise myself up enough (“Keep your chest down!”) to drink without choking. Have you ever tried to drink from a cup while laying on your belly? Of course not, because it doesn’t work! I thought, “Great! Just what I need—to flunk my MRI!” Fortunately, they do this thing in small increments, so I only had to repeat the last few minutes and not the whole hour.
As you can imagine, I’m just quaking with eager anticipation over the thought of doing this again.