My shoulder got messed up in the accident last July and it's been hurting ever since. My doctor has finally deigned to pay some attention to the shoulder and had me scheduled for an MRI. (I also happen to have an appointment with one of his colleagues tomorrow, before my MRI follow up with first doctor, that I scheduled during a mad fit of wanting to get a first opinion on my shoulder.)
This morning, bright and early, I go to the hospital for my MRI. The MRI area has these great doormats saying "Warning! Magnet in use!" I find these doormats appealing, but that speaks more of my geekiness than of the doormats, which are not terribly attractive. I fill out the forms claiming that I have no metal in my body and change out of my clothes.
The MRI machine is shaped like a great big aquamarine donut. I lie down on the pallet and skooch under this plastic thing that will cover my shoulder and help me keep it still, basically by pressing right where it hurts. The technicians give me earplugs because the machine is noisy and show me how they want me to hold my arm (in kind of a painful position). They also put a cushion under my knees and a blanket over me so I'll be a little more comfortable.
I am not claustrophobic. There is enough room around me in the middle of the donut. The only hard part is lying so still for so long. I want the images to be as clear as possible.
The other only hard part is when they said they were done and they'd bring me out of the machine, but then they didn't, deciding instead to run another series of images.
When I finally get out of the machine, I notice this thing on the pallet, a blue squeeze bulb connected to a clear plastic tube.
"Is that the panic button?" I ask. I want to squeeze and see if it sounds like a squeaky toy. It would have to be a mechanical type of arrangement because an electronic button would be messed up by the magnetic fields.
"Yes, that's to call the nurse. I didn't give it to you since you didn't look like the panicking type," the tech tells me.
387 words | December 22, 2004 10:31 PM | Miss Trauma