krestofre
Knight of the Holy Order
Let me preface this post by saying that a few weeks ago I hurt my knee. I mean really hurt my knee. I won't go into the details, as they're not relevant (but I'll say that 24 of the 25 ninjas that attacked me didn't make it out alive ... and the 25th hit me from behind).
So yesterday I had to go have an MRI. This was my first MRI and I wasn't really sure what to expect. I was ushered into a room that contained a larger spherical machine with a giant (and I mean freakin' huge) GE logo branded on the side. "Hm," I thought. "GE makes MRI machines, who knew?" I was instructed to remove any metal objects from my person except for my wedding ring and my belt. This seemed a little odd to me, considering that both were made of metal. Does the great, powerful MRI realize that a particular piece of metal is a belt buckle, or a wedding ring?
Following the kind MRI lady's instruction, I climbed up to a bed like area, still wearing my belt and my ring, convinced that this oversight was somehow going to lead to my untimely death. She encased my knee in some sort of James Bond / Clockwork Orange torture device and advised me that I couldn't move for the entirety of the MRI. I began to ask if that meant I should hold my breath the whole time, but I remembered that this is the same person who is setting me up for disaster by making me wear my wedding ring and belt, so I kept quiet.
The lady then asked me if I wanted ear plugs. "Sure," I said. I was caught a little off guard because I don't think I've ever been offered ear plugs as if they were an after dinner mint before. I put the plugs in my ears as the lady was handing me a little button. This was exciting because I am male, and being male, I love buttons. She explained that this button was a killswitch in case any time I needed to stop the MRI. Um ... they build these things with killswitches?
This was when I finally remembered where I had scene the strange form of the MRI machine: Quantum Leap. I was about to be sent back in time--within my own lifetime--to set right things that went wrong. I have a family back home, but this was to be my higher calling in life, to do what only Scott Bakula had done before me. Don't worry President Kennedy. This time I'll save you!
The MRI lady was explaining more about the proceedure, but I wasn't really listening because I was too busy wondering where Ziggy was going to send me first.
Finally the MRI started. I was mechanically moved into the belly of this great GE embossed beast. There was a digital read-out pannel that I could see that would occasionally flash numbers, and then occasionally count down from three minutes. I'm not exactly sure what this was for since the MRI lady took my glasses away from me and most things were different shades of blurry. But I watched the time tick away. At first this was somewhat relaxing. I'd watch the numbers change, or mentally count with them. Then the machine started clanging.
I have two young children, so the ability to drown out noise is something that I've honed over the years. Normally clanging would bother me, but this claning was different. This clanging wasn't in sync with the numerical count down on the LED display. As my brain processed the clanging and desperatley tried to establish a pattern with the changing chronometer, I realized that I was not encased in an MRI. I wasn't about to leap back and save an unsuspecting person from certain death. No, I was in an expensive, digital version of Chinese Water Torture.
And that's where I stayed for about 30 minutes, until the clanging stopped, and the clock reached 00:00. Then I emerged from my GE-created coffin. "We bring good things to life" my butt!
Now I have to wait for them to read the MRI and call me and tell me what they found. Sigh. Oh how I long for the day where Star Trek medical technology will be a reality. They should be able to wave a small glowing object over my knee for two minutes and then send me off with a clean bill of health. Until then, I guess I'll have to settle for what GE gives me.
Chris
So yesterday I had to go have an MRI. This was my first MRI and I wasn't really sure what to expect. I was ushered into a room that contained a larger spherical machine with a giant (and I mean freakin' huge) GE logo branded on the side. "Hm," I thought. "GE makes MRI machines, who knew?" I was instructed to remove any metal objects from my person except for my wedding ring and my belt. This seemed a little odd to me, considering that both were made of metal. Does the great, powerful MRI realize that a particular piece of metal is a belt buckle, or a wedding ring?
Following the kind MRI lady's instruction, I climbed up to a bed like area, still wearing my belt and my ring, convinced that this oversight was somehow going to lead to my untimely death. She encased my knee in some sort of James Bond / Clockwork Orange torture device and advised me that I couldn't move for the entirety of the MRI. I began to ask if that meant I should hold my breath the whole time, but I remembered that this is the same person who is setting me up for disaster by making me wear my wedding ring and belt, so I kept quiet.
The lady then asked me if I wanted ear plugs. "Sure," I said. I was caught a little off guard because I don't think I've ever been offered ear plugs as if they were an after dinner mint before. I put the plugs in my ears as the lady was handing me a little button. This was exciting because I am male, and being male, I love buttons. She explained that this button was a killswitch in case any time I needed to stop the MRI. Um ... they build these things with killswitches?
This was when I finally remembered where I had scene the strange form of the MRI machine: Quantum Leap. I was about to be sent back in time--within my own lifetime--to set right things that went wrong. I have a family back home, but this was to be my higher calling in life, to do what only Scott Bakula had done before me. Don't worry President Kennedy. This time I'll save you!
The MRI lady was explaining more about the proceedure, but I wasn't really listening because I was too busy wondering where Ziggy was going to send me first.
Finally the MRI started. I was mechanically moved into the belly of this great GE embossed beast. There was a digital read-out pannel that I could see that would occasionally flash numbers, and then occasionally count down from three minutes. I'm not exactly sure what this was for since the MRI lady took my glasses away from me and most things were different shades of blurry. But I watched the time tick away. At first this was somewhat relaxing. I'd watch the numbers change, or mentally count with them. Then the machine started clanging.
I have two young children, so the ability to drown out noise is something that I've honed over the years. Normally clanging would bother me, but this claning was different. This clanging wasn't in sync with the numerical count down on the LED display. As my brain processed the clanging and desperatley tried to establish a pattern with the changing chronometer, I realized that I was not encased in an MRI. I wasn't about to leap back and save an unsuspecting person from certain death. No, I was in an expensive, digital version of Chinese Water Torture.
And that's where I stayed for about 30 minutes, until the clanging stopped, and the clock reached 00:00. Then I emerged from my GE-created coffin. "We bring good things to life" my butt!
Now I have to wait for them to read the MRI and call me and tell me what they found. Sigh. Oh how I long for the day where Star Trek medical technology will be a reality. They should be able to wave a small glowing object over my knee for two minutes and then send me off with a clean bill of health. Until then, I guess I'll have to settle for what GE gives me.
Chris
