I went for an MRI – turned out to be a horrible but retrospectively amusing experience, I suppose. Just to be clear nothing awful to report about results just the process.
Just reviewed this blog. This has been written in the daytime, when the I am a lot saner. Not half as good is it. Bit contrived to be funny. Ughhh. Actually quite horrible like from a second rate 1970’s book of humorous stories written by a washed up TV weather forecaster. [think my Dad owned that book) Never mind. I will leave it. Make sure it never gets included in the complete works.
So – pain and very poor mobility.
It was in Tescos car park. As we approached all I could see was a ladder sticking out of the back of an articulated lorry – and yes I really did think and report to Maria that I would be able to manage to climb up it. Needless to say they had a disabled lift and all the works. I also needed a wee. On that front they were less well prepared. They didn’t have one and the nearest was a good trek and my capabilities at that time amounted to about 20 strides of wheeless zimmer. I was assured that it would only take 20 minutes to do the scan but then the staff who had a slight ‘Kwikfit’ vibe checked my MOT on Spine booking and said 40 minutes. I began to sweat. Relief appeared to be at hand when I offered to take a quick leak in a bush, however due to the Tesco security cameras and the reluctance of the staff to license this anarchy this was out too. 40 minutes, I would have to call upon my SAS training and just push through. ‘Oh by the way’ I said in the waiting area accompanied I must say by some very pleasant amusing and trying to be helpful fitters – ‘I have a cough does that matter?’The verdict seemed at first to be don’t cough. The sweat began to stream. This was modified to ‘don’t cough when the machine makes a noise and if you have to squeeze the buzzer so we can pause the recording and redo it.’ ‘The whole of it ?’ I said. Imagining a never ending cycle of pauses and rescans. ‘No just that particular scan.’ I could say I was reassured by this but I was actually too far gone and complete panic was setting in. Off we set to walk to the scanner. I reached for my zimmer, ‘can’t take that, it will stick to the wall and we won’t be able to remove it.’Needless to say I had forgotten this as well. So like Fonteign and Nuriev me and fitter sort of danced toward the scanner. He must have been taught a fancy way of how to do it safely because he held both his hands in front of him clutched together high on his chest just like a ballet dancer and I hung onto those somewhat romantically as if readying myself to do a show stopping pirouette. Next step lie down flat. Basically I had forgotten the degree to which my body currently resists that simple idea and given that my anxiety had induced a plank like rigidness from my top to my toes this was gonna hurt and it did.
So to summarise, needing a wee, not allowed to cough, painful back – I had 40 minutes to prove that I could survive interrogation by benign funny helpful but unknowingly cruel physical and psychological torturers. It wasn’t quite over. They tried to attach a face cover, initially quite patiently but then with more than a little kwik fit elbow grease. I let out an oww so they gave that up presumably leaving my face exposed to whatever Chernobyl lay in wait within the tube. They stuck in some silicon earplugs and then bizarrely some headphones on top of those which appeared to be broadcasting the voices of sirens luring me onto some rocks or previous patients plaintively keening to be allowed to go for a wee till I realised it was the gunk on my chest weasing and echoing back down the line.
The system tells you how long each scan will take. I think the longest is 5 minutes the rest are three or four so I paced myself and held on until the gaps and then coughed. As each scan passed I told myself that at least I would not have to repeat that one and by the end of the 40 minutes I was reasonably calm almost ready for another go. NOT.
It was over. I was jovial and they said I had done really well. I felt like a child. It was nice. I didn’t need a wee anymore.
Finally, can I say I know people who put up with so much more pain and fear than I do but I have been told not to be so self effacing and modest so for me this little victory was actually quite big so I feel quite proud. Bravo me.
Recently It was suggested I write within a day, three short examples of Flash Fiction for Christmas. I think it was on Christmas Eve. Anyway, in that same spirit of less self effacement I think they turned out pretty good so I am going to post them one at a time. I wrote about them before in this blog but that bit vanished when the app crashed and stopped publishing. Last time I explained them and apologised on behalf of them. This time I won’t.j
The skateboard park
Santa was already there despite it being Christmas Eve he had been there all day, just hanging out. He didn’t need to skateboard as he had a sleigh that was faster and could carry passengers and presents. So he just sat on the concrete and watched the children play.
The children were troubled. They had been told to watch out for men, on their own hanging about watching, so they called the police who were too busy and said that Santa was well-loved and they didn’t need to worry.
One of the brave girls asked Santa what he was doing and said he should be out doing his deliveries. He agreed but didn’t budge. So the girl went back to doing some quite showy offy tricks. Santa clapped obligingly which warmed everybody’s heart and made the atmosphere much better and jolly as you would expect.
Eventually Santa stood up tightened his belt and Rudolf knew him well enough to know that this meant it was time to go. So off they both went. The other children went home to leave mince pies and sherry out for Santa even though it would have been easier to give it to him before he left. Only the brave little girl stayed to show off some more.
To me.