Before the saga continues I have to say a word about MRI.
Is this thing bizarre or what?
First they strap a thing on your face that makes you look for all the world like Hannibal Lecter.
Then, speaking as a musician, the noises, whirrs, clicks, hums, whack-whack-whack sounds this machine produces are a challenge to the ear and an affront to all logic. One cannot possibly hold together a coherent thought while this is assaulting one’s brain. (One can, however, hum in harmony until one gets too bored to continue.)
I wish they had told me I was going to be in there for better part of an hour.
I wish they had told me to come prepared with things to do mentally.
I wish they had told me, as Dad informed me yesterday, that “music for your listening pleasure” is available. If indeed it is at our hospital.
Above all I wish there was somebody helping to prepare me for what each procedure is going to do to me.
Mom (God rest her soul) always taught me that mental preparedness was 90% of the battle. But how can I be mentally prepared when I don’t know in advance what’s going to happen? People had me all worried about a needle in my spine (spinal tap… painless these days…) but never told me it’s the dye that packs a punch. People had me worried about having to lie still in an MRI tube (nap-time, anyone?) but never told me the noise will keep me awake and make relaxation impossible.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not faulting the medical staff. They’re doing their level best to deal with all kinds of people with all kinds of conditions, many of them lots worse than mine. And they don’t know what I don’t know. They don’t have a sixth sense to know what my questions are. I have to ask. The thing is, most of the time I don’t know enough to know what questions to ask.
I just wish there was some kind of… consultant? buyers’ agent? whatever title you’d give the person… who knows what us laypeople typically don’t know and is adept at explaining it all. Just sayin’.