Achmed’s New Portrait

Have you ever had an MRI before? I have not, well, until today. I have never been buried alive either, however I think the two must be pretty similar. (I’ll get back to the road trip tomorrow)

Today was my first one in what I hope is a long line of annual MRIs to monitor Achmed after the nuclear blast. It is a pretty simple procedure actually. You show up at the hospital and wait... well; actually the showing up and waiting was a bit of a trip in and of itself today. For those of you who have never been to The Health Science Centre, it is a big brick building that has been built in pieces, (based on the health budget of the time I guess) and has no rhyme, reason or common sense direction to get anywhere. Well, I have always said that common sense is not common, so perhaps I should leave that part out.

I arrived at the hospital this morning at about 6:45 AM, without my morning coffee and with nowhere near a full night’s sleep! I don’t normally haul my ass out of the rack until around 7:30... so to start with, I was not smiling when I got there. At the main entrance, the information booth was closed... in fact, I have never seen it open so I don’t understand why they don’t just make it a coffee stand and have it serve a purpose. There is a big pole / kiosk in the centre of the opening lobby with names of departments and arrows pointing in the “right” direction. Unfortunately, I have always had trouble going THROUGH brick walls so I opted to go around them.

Maybe Achmed was playing tricks on my head, but I seemed to never really get back on the right path to the MRI room. I did however; end up at the Emergency Room. According to television shows, the ER is the brain of any hospital and should be able to point anyone in the right direction for any procedure. Well, apparently the ER never had its coffee this morning either.

There were these two ladies sitting behind the counter having a friendly chat about last night’s events, so I thought, “cool, two friendly faces to help me find the right spot.” WRONG!!! It seems that these two ladies were only interested in being friendly to each other... apparently “friendly” was not listed in the job description when they were hired.

Briefly transcribed, the conversation was something like this:

Kevin: “Excuse me?”

Kevin: smiling “Excuse me please?”

Two Ladies: glare

Kevin: “I have an appointment for an MRI...”

Lady One: “This is emerge.” Turn away to Lady Two.

Kevin: somehow still smiling “Yes, I realize that, but I followed the signs and ended up here.”

Lady One: “You need a requisition.” Glare

Lady Two: “You missed it.” Glare

Lady One: “Do you have a requisition?”

Kevin: not really smiling that much any more “Yes, well I have a requisition and apparently I did pass the turn, but I wonder if you could tell me how to get there so I don’t get lost again?”

Lady One to Lady Two: “I’m not really sure how to get there from here. Do you know?”

Lady Two to Lady One: “Just back the way he came I think.”

Lady One to Lady Two: “Is it just down that hall?”

Lady Two to Lady One: “Back that way to the right somewhere I think.”

Lady One to Lady Two: “I think if he goes back there he will find it.”

Kevin: in his mind, wanting so much to scream, but kind of smiling “I am right in front of you! I can hear you! Just pick a door and send me along!”

Lady Two to Kevin: “Go down that hall and turn right and go the end and turn right again, and there is a door with a ‘3’ on it.”

Lady Two to Lady One: “Do you think that is right?”

I didn’t wait for an answer from the ladies I just smiled and left. I am not even sure if I said ‘thank-you’ because I had no idea what they were talking about and I didn’t want to cloud the partial information with speech and get lost again. Fortunately, between bits and pieces of their discussion and my ability to know my left from my right, and the happy coincidence that they too knew left from right, I eventually found a door with a ‘3’ on it. This door, however, was not where I was supposed to go! Luckily, I am able to read and didn’t need to ask anyone else where I was supposed to be heading... I found a sign which ultimately led me to the registration desk.

The lady at the registration desk was much nicer. She didn’t smile, or say ‘hi’, or show any concern for me in any way, but she was not rude and she did address me when she spoke (although she looked at the computer for the most part). After I was checked in, I got send to the waiting area. Fortunately, her directions were a little more clear, but I was a little nervous that I was going to miss my trip in the magnetic tunnel with all of this blind direction talk. I found it... I also found Sarah and Judy in the same waiting area as me.

Have you ever watched the old “This Hour Has 22 Minutes”? The ones where Cathy Jones and Mary Walsh used to dress up as these two little-old-ladies and walk through the park and talk about everyone else? Well, I am pretty sure that Cathy and Mary were imitating Sarah and Judy.

And Sarah and Judy weren’t quiet with their discussions either. Maybe they both have hearing loss... and for a brief moment I wished that mine was much worse. I know how old everyone is from their community; who had affairs with whom; who died first and how old they were; who won the jackpot at bingo last weekend and how bad their feet are today. It wasn’t bad enough but when one of them went in for their scan, the other one turned to me, and without missing a beat continued the conversation. If I had had any energy at all, or my devilish streak was showing through even a little bit... we would have had a big argument over the fact that she thinks the motorcycles should not be allowed on the road if quads aren’t... well, I just smiled... I think she would have beaten me in a debate anyway... tough broad!

So eventually I got my turn to go into the magnetic room, and there in the centre of the room was a large, white tunnel... looking to me much like a coffin! The interview for the MRI machine, for me at least, was a recap of all of my old injuries and surgeries. I showed her my scars (she was a sweet lady but I never got her name... great sense of humour too), told her about my broken bones, where I had metal in my different body parts at one point or another. She seemed particularly interested in the radiator blowing up in my face incident, my three broken noses, as well as the time I drove a chisel through my hand... after I rattled everything off, she looked at me with a very inquisitive expression and said, “Are you sure you are not forgetting anything... like bullets or shrapnel?” Now that I think of it, maybe she was serious and thought I was a gang-banger or something.

Finally, the moment of truth... sliding into the tunnel. I love open spaces. On the flip-side of that coin, it seems that I really don’t like being closed in at all. That translates into my actual life as well. I am pretty sure that when I finally do kick the bucket my headstone will likely say, “He liked his freedom, he must really hate that box we stuffed him in!” (If anyone reading this is around when they plan my funeral, I would like to be cremated please!)

Anyway, the MRI lady told me I might as well get used to sliding into this tunnel, seeing how I am probably going to be having 40 or 50 of them before I do go to the big MRI machine in the sky. She put a facecloth over my eyes to dull the senses of my surroundings... it worked. From what I understand, they offer you valume (I don’t know how to spell it, you know, that relaxation drug) for the Gamma Ray Modulator... I am not much for drugs, but I believe I will take it!

Once you are inside this magnetic tunnel, it kind of sounds like a jack-hammer going off next to your head, so they give you earplugs to help with the noise. Yes, well, there is also a little speaker for the lady to talk to you while you are in the machine:-/... how well do you think I could hear her with earplugs in to drown out the jack-hammer? I just said, “yes” or “fine” or “ok” to every question. You know how it is when you are talking to someone that you just can’t understand, but you don’t want to seem rude, so you nod and agree. Well, my head was strapped in; I couldn’t nod, so I agreed.

Eventually, she let me out... it probably felt like being released from prison... I have never been to prison and it is actually one of the areas of living that I try to avoid. No one told me that my head was in a cage and the facecloth hid it from my view... sitting up almost became unpleasant, luckily for me she was standing over me and pushed my chest back down on the table. Good thing I don’t have a heart problem. No one also told me that they raised the table up off the floor while I was lying on it. Poor little thing, I am almost 200 pounds, I almost broke her arm when she tried to catch me.

After that she let me put my clothes back on (I was wearing hospital greens for those of you with dirty minds) and I was allowed to go back to work. It was only mid-morning and I felt like I had already put in a full day.

Eventually MRIs will probably be standard diagnostic procedures in our world... they are not that bad when you get used to them.

From Achmed and Me... Live Life!