scanned....

I’LL BE SCANNED....

I have led a charmed life. Until cataract surgery last year, my only other surgery was a tonsillectomy at age 7. No serious diseases, no broken bones, nothing.  I used to work in a senior center and had nothing to talk about when people started comparing diseases and operations. Apparently I have been saving it all up for one big production.

I cannot claim to possess any dignity. Anyone who has seen my Facebook page will realize that. It’s good thing because the first thing to go when you are a patient is your dignity. So already I’m ahead of the game. I have quickly gone from being an independent human to being a mouse under a microscope. The only thing I can do is stand back and be amused.

Yesterday I reported to the radiology department at Munson Hospital in Traverse City. I was there for a MRI, which I believe stands for More Ridiculous Intervention. I had looked it up on the web so I had some idea what I was in for. First, some nice lady told me to take off my clothes. We had just met and I didn’t even know her name! I usually like to have a couple drinks before we get to that stage but they told me no food or liquid for four hours before the appointment. Then I was to put on some pajamas and slipper socks and put all my valuables in a tupperware container and take it with me. Maybe she takes credit cards - I don’t know. So I do all that and she tells me to sit in the waiting room until I’m called. OK.

So I’m sitting in the waiting room in my pajamas, watching TV. All I need now is a teddy bear. People are walking through and looking at me like I had escaped from the silly farm. Nice. Guess what channel is showing on the TV? The Food Channel! I’m sitting there with an empty tummy and this lady is showing me how to cook something yummy. It’s just not right.

So I  finally get the call and go to the MRI room. They ask me what kind of music I like and I reply classic rock. I lie down on this table and they strap me down, slap earphones on my head and stick a needle in my hand and slide me into this long metal tube. The inside of the tube is about 3 inches from my nose. Cozy. I hear Bob Seeger. That’s cool. Every once in a while the lady asked me to hold my breath and the tube makes the most horrible loud noises. Hey! I can’t hear Bob Seger! Keep it down out there! More breath-holding, more noises and then comes the final insult. The headphones start playing “Another one bites the dust” by Queen. That’s not funny! Actually, it IS funny and I start laughing and ruin a scan. Sorry! After 45 minutes of this fun, they take me out of the tube and I get to put my clothes back on. I even get to keep the socks.

And that’s how I spent my Thursday. Next trip: Another scan - this time with a long needle stick into my pancreas. I’m really looking forward to that.