This is a Test of the Emergency Broadcast System
That's what the first couple of blasts out of the MRI sounded like. And they had already put earplugs in my ears.
After I climbed onto the machine on my hands and knees, I had to lay on my stomach. It would have been much more comfortable if I had been flat on my stomach, but my head and feet were on the same level and everything else was slightly lower than that. It felt like most of my body weight was rested on my lower rib cage, with special compartments for my breasts. My hands were extended over my head like I was flying. Even though I was lying face down, there was a mirror set up so that it reflected the room as if I were looking straight out into it, so I could still see everything that was going on. I got a blanket since my socks and underwear weren't offering much in the way of warmth and then I started sliding backwards into the machine. Kind of like the start of a bad ride at Kings Dominion.
After the initial test of the emergency broadcasting system (and that's really what it sounded like, I fully expected to hear that announcement) the frequency of the honking and static picked up. Sometimes it sounded like a quick beat on a wooden block and I could imagine the Blue Man Group getting ready to play. Other times the noise was so loud or low that I could actually feel the table I was on shake a little. These little blasts of noise usually lasted for two minutes. There would be a quiet pause for a few seconds and then it would start up again in a slightly different pitch.
After the first 20 minutes, the technicians came into the room, pulled me out of the machine and inserted an IV into my hand (they had already tried to start one in my arm, but my veins wouldn't cooperate.) The IV allowed a contrast dye to enter my body and when it was injected it felt like ice shooting up my arm. I was pretty uncomfortable by this point, mainly because the position prevented me from taking a good deep breath, but I couldn't move because I needed to remain in the same position throughout the test.
Once the dye was in my system, I was pushed back into the machine and the cacophony resumed. I really wanted to move. My right knee felt funny and things were starting to fall asleep. Another ten minutes passed and they came back into the room to let me out. I climbed down, graceful as always, and made my way back to the dressing room.
It's a good thing the attendant came with me because the distance from the MRI to the dressing room was the exact amount of time it took for all of my limbs to fall asleep. I couldn't get my hands quite right to open the door and then I had to sit for a second before I could dress myself. Other than the impression on my face that was eerily reminiscent of Hannibal Lector's mask, I escaped unharmed.
A radiologist will read the MRI and send a report to my surgeon. I'll only hear from him if they find something new or different than what they anticipate. I'm off later today to meet with a second surgeon to get a second opinion. I don't doubt the first one, I just want to make sure I'm making the right decision. It's snowing now, so hopefully it won't stick to the roads before I get home tonight.
Oh! There were two more suggestions for names.
After I climbed onto the machine on my hands and knees, I had to lay on my stomach. It would have been much more comfortable if I had been flat on my stomach, but my head and feet were on the same level and everything else was slightly lower than that. It felt like most of my body weight was rested on my lower rib cage, with special compartments for my breasts. My hands were extended over my head like I was flying. Even though I was lying face down, there was a mirror set up so that it reflected the room as if I were looking straight out into it, so I could still see everything that was going on. I got a blanket since my socks and underwear weren't offering much in the way of warmth and then I started sliding backwards into the machine. Kind of like the start of a bad ride at Kings Dominion.
After the initial test of the emergency broadcasting system (and that's really what it sounded like, I fully expected to hear that announcement) the frequency of the honking and static picked up. Sometimes it sounded like a quick beat on a wooden block and I could imagine the Blue Man Group getting ready to play. Other times the noise was so loud or low that I could actually feel the table I was on shake a little. These little blasts of noise usually lasted for two minutes. There would be a quiet pause for a few seconds and then it would start up again in a slightly different pitch.
After the first 20 minutes, the technicians came into the room, pulled me out of the machine and inserted an IV into my hand (they had already tried to start one in my arm, but my veins wouldn't cooperate.) The IV allowed a contrast dye to enter my body and when it was injected it felt like ice shooting up my arm. I was pretty uncomfortable by this point, mainly because the position prevented me from taking a good deep breath, but I couldn't move because I needed to remain in the same position throughout the test.
Once the dye was in my system, I was pushed back into the machine and the cacophony resumed. I really wanted to move. My right knee felt funny and things were starting to fall asleep. Another ten minutes passed and they came back into the room to let me out. I climbed down, graceful as always, and made my way back to the dressing room.
It's a good thing the attendant came with me because the distance from the MRI to the dressing room was the exact amount of time it took for all of my limbs to fall asleep. I couldn't get my hands quite right to open the door and then I had to sit for a second before I could dress myself. Other than the impression on my face that was eerily reminiscent of Hannibal Lector's mask, I escaped unharmed.
A radiologist will read the MRI and send a report to my surgeon. I'll only hear from him if they find something new or different than what they anticipate. I'm off later today to meet with a second surgeon to get a second opinion. I don't doubt the first one, I just want to make sure I'm making the right decision. It's snowing now, so hopefully it won't stick to the roads before I get home tonight.
Oh! There were two more suggestions for names.
- The Grinch
- Katrina
At this point, I think we'll close the submissions and I'll announce the name on Friday. You can see rationale for these two names in the comments on the original posts. Thanks for all of your great ideas.
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