No Joke

The CT scan was no problem, but when I can’t watch a ‘tunnel scene’ in a movie, I had some worry. A slight brain hemorrhage was evident and indicated that another look was necessary. I had a very bad experience with an MRI back in Vegas. I was fine until they attempted to place the face-mask on me. (I felt like “Silencing the Lambs”) That didn’t go well. It didn’t ‘go’ at all. This time, I informed all involved with my problem and was assured there would be nothing to worry about. They showed me a new machine on the Internet that was “open” on each side and since the ‘model’ on the table didn’t have the mask, that seemed acceptable. We arrive and are given the usual form to complete (even though they already have all my info in their electronic system, I think this is a way to take my mind off the whole mess).  At the bottom of the form I write CLAUSTROPHOBIC!!!,just in case and they look at me and say “uh oh”. UH OHH!??  Before I could make a jasonkey out of my self by throwing a good old fashioned “TabbTornadicTemperTantrum-HissieFit”, I quietly walked over to the lounge and lounged, leaving all further business to my business manager. This tense moment brought a bunch of blue scrubs from the back and they gathered around the nurse as she and Susan determined to go right to the crux of the problem…ME!  Whispering sweet cooooing words and assuring a terrified 250 pound mass of male jelly, that they would take care of me was making some headway until Susan said, “Just do the make believe thing you do on stage. Play a Hero” Not be a Hero, but act like one! Lovely!! Finally someone said the pivotal word, “Pill”.  I said,” Had one before that didn’t do the job, but I will do this thing if you can keep me happy”.  They allowed me to sit and calm myself and I allowed the nurse to lead me to the next station. There I was asked the same questions, starting with “name and date of birth”. Then after going through the whole health issue again, she said I see you are Claustrophobic. (Pretty astute observation since i had written “CLAUSTROPHIC!!! across the registration sheet). She then scanned my bracelet and went to a file cabinet with numerous drawers and put in a code or something and opened a drawer, taking out two white pills. She had asked if I could take Tylenol.(Yes, but they didn’t ‘knock me out’!)  Returning to her desk, she scanned the pill-packet and mumbled something tacky. She scanned my bracelet and the pills numerous times, mumbling other bad words. She then called for a tech to come work on the machine that didn’t recognize the pills. No one was available until later in the day. I had already been sitting at her desk for over 40-minutes when she finally called for a nurse to come and OK her use of this particular medication. (The regsister nurse had already come into the office twice) Finally a young lady with the same tag as the lady trying to get the doggone medicine to pass muster, came in, looked at the packet of pills and my wrist band and said ‘OK’. The tacky-talking nurse mumbled $#%&*& procedure and had another nurse escort me to the ‘open MRI’ about four corridors away. As we entered an area with four curtained off sections, I was led into another room with this huge white coffin-shaped gizmo with a long table with a place for my head and a “MASK” that the attendant called a “Helmet, just like Cam Newton wears”, smiling. “Sure”, I thought, “Looks like the thing Anthony Hopkins wore in”Silence of the Lambs”.  It took at least 20-minutes to adjust the contraption where I could lie flat on my back (hadn’t done that in years) comfortably with my head in the right restraint and then when he pulled the ‘helmet’ over my face it touched my nose!!! NOPE, NO WAY!!  I owe this fellow tremendous gratitude. He stayed with me; changed things until we found just the one that would allow me to lie flat and accept the ‘helmet’. I believe the meds had kicked in by that time since everything was beautiful and during the most unearthly banging, whistling, cymbal crashing, honking, thumping and sawing-45-minutes, I even could open my eyes and look through the ‘helmet’ at a small mirror that gave me a look into the control room and peripherally, I could see out the open gap in the coffin-thing. I knew I was scheduled for two tests, MRI and MRA, so when the attendant stopped the machine and gave me an injection of dye, I knew my MRA was next. It lasted only ten minutes. I said, “GOD is GREAT”! “Thank you JESUS and thank you sir!”  He smiled and said, “You did very well!’ I thought that was nice since everything was so wonderful I really didn’t care, donchaknow. From the moment I was taken by wheelchair to the car, I recall very litte of the day, but I do know I was very nice and quiet. I attempted to read my Kindle, but spent most the the day dozing. I’ve not had such a restful night of sleep in a pretty long time. I realize it’s Un-Christianlike, but I wouldn’t mind a couple of those little white pills once in a while. Sorrowfully repentent for the thought, but GOD already knows all my weaknesses, anyhow.  I came home with a CD of my procedure and there is a brain there. The most sobering thought comes when I consider the power of my brain and how two little white pills can so lessen that power. SIN must be like two white pills to anyone who is without the Holy Comforter. Medical history says that once a MRI is prescribed, chances are one or more will follow. The Peace the two pills gave me may be lulling me into thinking I can do the next one on my own, trusting in the power within afforded by FAITH. Should that be, you will be the first to hear of “VICTORY IN JESUS!” Donchaknow, AMEN

2 thoughts on “No Joke

  1. I can truly relate to your feelings for MRI..mine are the same..Horrible invention of the devil! Prayers are with you .
    My Mac is going,I’m afraid.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.