What to Expect from an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaginging)

If you have ever had an x-ray where they have you lie down on a table. having an MRI is a little bit like that except the "table" is narrower. However, you will be snug as a bug in a rug once inside the tube, as your body will be comfortable embraced and supported by the MRI machine. If you have ever had a CT scan you know that your body is automatically guided through a large hole without you having to move or anyone having to move you. An MRI is similar in the same way, except the hole is smaller and is longer. If you have ever slept in a top bunk with the ceiling above your head, it is similar to that, except the ceiling is closer. For some people, this can be intensely claustrophobic. If you know that you can't tolerate tight spaces like a too small public bathroom cubicle then you should arrange ahead of time to have something to calm you. Perhaps a tranquilizer pill, for example. Occasionally an IV can be given if necessary. Be sure to discuss these issues with the ordering doctor.

One of the best MRI experiences I ever had was when the ceiling of the space I was lying inside of was painted sky blue and had clouds. They gave me a pair of earphones to wear and I got to choose the music to be played. I had soft pillows under my knees, a warmed blanket laid over me and a pleasant recorded Lady-Voice speaking to me whenever instructions were given. There was a soft breeze wafting that came from behind my head. The banging and rat-tat-tatting of the machine never bothered me. I played a fantasy in my mind that I was hiding inside a hollow tree as a child while a woodpecker tapped on the tree.

One of the worst was when I had to lie flat, no pillows, in a cold room with just a single sheet over me. They insisted I wear earplugs. It was dark inside with a little row of mild lighting on each side. The ceiling was gray. A fan blew cold air right up my nose which started up a Migraine Headache. Because they insisted I wear earplugs, the extra loud, commanding, recorded male voice telling me to hold still, even though I was frozen into place, was the most annoying of all! I had a fantasy of being the "Incredible Hulk" and wringing the neck of whoever had set it up that way. Just kidding about that part.

Now, whenever I go for an MRI I wear sweats, or a jersey t-shirt type fabric, pants, and top with no hooks, buttons, zippers, etc and ask to wear them. I wear warm, thick socks. I see no reason to strip down and lay there freezing beneath a skimpy hospital gown when I can be humanly comfortable. It makes no difference to the reading of the MRI, I have been told. I ask for double sheeting (if there are no warm flannel blankets) pulled up around my cheeks and shoulders. I tell them I don't like the earplugs as they aggravate my sinuses. (They do.) And could they please turn down the volume on the voice. Since I have done modeling for artists in the past, I do have the capacity to lie completely still for long periods of time, even though parts of me get tingly and numb, and sometimes painful. I spend the time praying, meditating, thinking beautiful thoughts, and/or fantasizing. I make sure that I have taken sufficient medication beforehand to allay my pain if I have any. That is if I am not required to be without food or drink overnight. If that is the case, I have used a mind-over-matter technique with pain,  and have found it useful for getting through situations like this.

That first time with the music has never been repeated and I have never been able to get permission to bring in my own. So, I never ask about music anymore. If it is really cold inside, during a break in the machine noises, I will ask for the fan to be turned off, sometimes. Some people think it gets too warm and stuffy without it. But, I've never had a problem with it. During longer breaks, I do move ever so slightly to take in a very deep, slow breath and stretch a tiny bit, but never disturb the part of my body they are focusing on. The main thing about holding still is to not hold myself stiffly. That's what causes pain to arise. When I hold still, I try to think of myself as soft as butter melting in sunlight.

The staff are usually quite accommodating if I ask politely. I always apologize ahead of time for being too bothersome, explaining that I have been through so much medical trauma in the past, and would appreciate it if we could do these things. I always thank them each time some request has been agreed with, and remind them how kind they are. I think they do appreciate it and will go the extra mile for a patient that is not complaining and bitching at them. They have to take that kind of treatment all day, every day, from some patients who are really unable to control themselves while they are suffering. And it can be refreshing to be treated as sweet angels of mercy for a change. (Male staff, too.) It can often bring out the best in people that way and bring on a more nurturing experience.

That is my personal philosophy about it. It may be different for others. Sometimes there are people who do not respond to this kind of treatment and remain aloof, cold, remote, sometimes arrogant, and so forth. That is their problem if they want to act that way. I am not going to let them turn me into a helpless little patient, even if they do have me in tears. I do complain to the right people if I have received unkind, inhumane or unprofessional treatment. I have been known to get up and walk out of a situation and leave them open-mouthed when I have been treated in less than a humane way.

Vera sat in the car staring out over the cliff, seagulls dipping back and forth on the breeze. She took the rest of her sandwich, broke it into pieces, and began throwing them out the window one piece at a time.

Soon gulls squawked and dive bombed her car. Vera quickly threw out the rest, and when the fighting started, she raised the window and numbly watched, not able to look away. Her intent to do a kindness, to feed some hungry birds had turned into a violent free-for-all as the bigger birds pecked at the smaller ones taking the food right out of their beaks.

Vera was sorry she came out here. Sorry to see the gray waves sloppily sloshing the shore. It reminded her so much of herself... gray waves. Not even waves, just gray. Gray like the dreams that didn't make sense. Vera didn't just feel it, she was the essence of it, like the heavy fog beginning to creep toward the cliff. She felt like she could dissipate and seep right into it like dust swept into the air. Except she didn't have the energy to move. Just sit and stare and be nowhere.

Vera knew she was depressed. She had been here many times before. Despondency... her old friend/old foe never went too far away, always lurking in the background of her life somewhere. "That's the way it is when you've got brain chemicals out of whack," she said to the last departing seagull.

The oddest things triggered her mood swings. It wasn't anything that Paul said. He could say the same exact thing ten days ago and it wouldn't pierce her heart, draining all the blood of her self-esteem away. No. It wasn't what Paul said. It was the brain chemicals.

A Little Rain Must Fall

I was living in Indiana from '85 to '95. During that time period, California was experiencing drought where my daughter lived. My grandson came to visit me when he was eleven and wandered around, wide-eyed, at all the green grass and trees. Half his life he had not seen such verdant lushness!

We had plenty of rain all summer in Indiana. One time we had someplace to go, and just as we got out the door, it started pouring. I said a few rudely chosen words about the rain as we got in the car soaking wet.

"Granny, you shouldn't complain about the rain!" my grandson admonished. "It is sooo BEAUTIFUL to me!!"

Out of the mouths of babes...