Paradise Found

Another day, another MRI. It’s not the first time I have had one of these, but it is probably surprising to my readers that they have never wanted to look at my head. This time it was my ankle – apparently I have some alien-like growths forming – someday soon I will be an entry in the X-Files.

Not much has changed about the MRI experience since my last visit. The noise the machine makes is still like some sort of gunfight – staccato machine-gun fire followed by the odd mortar bomb being dropped whilst I listened to Duke Ellington over the headphones – I imagine it is just like being a Jazz fan in downtown Baghdad, only more less dangerous.

This time I had a major panic about 45 seconds into the routine though. I had carefully removed all metallic items – watch, jewellery (yes, my gold medallion), loose coins and the like – I am used to that after all my trips though airport security – and then I suddenly realised once the machine had started that the collar stiffeners were still in my shirt, which I was wearing. I was filled with dread at the thought of my neck being picked up and slammed repeatedly into the MRI machine as the magnet did its thing.

Most people would probably have alerted the attendant at this stage, but I thought I would see how strong the magnet was and whether the collar stiffeners were actually magnetic enough to cause bodily harm. Fortunately, they were not, and I survived the ordeal in one piece.

It is probably a shame, because it would have been interesting to see the reaction of the attendant as she watched me head-banging the machine, wondering if she had piped the heavy metal channel over my headphones instead of the soothing jazz.

At the end of the process they did give me a nice CD – not jazz – but pictures the machine produces as it slices through the layers of my foot. I will probably play on the TV the next time I have guest around for drinks … it should make a good conversation piece.