Bulletin Number 2 ~ Come Fly With Me (The MRI Scan)

At the hospital MRI department early this morning, after calling out the name of what I thought must be someone else, the young nurse in purple goes through my safety form with me. This is to make sure that I don't have anything contained within my person that will be magnetically attracted to the scanner, causing me to be ripped apart from the inside. Luckily, I don't have piercings, replacement joints or any suspicious metallic history.

So all clear with the form then, except.... the very last question ~ do I have urinary retention? Well yes! That's why I'm here. My prostate is enlarged and it's preventing my bladder from emptying fully.

I'm invited to go for a pee. And I do try, but I can't pee.... because, guess what... I have urinary retention. I explain this to her and she looks perplexed, concerned and anxious.

Never mind, I offer to catheterise myself instead, if it would help (luckily, I have brought some portable catheters with me). An empty bladder means that a better image can be obtained. Maybe it would have been helpful if the pre-scan instruction leaflet I was given had made this point. Had I not said yes to the question about urinary retention, the nurse was going to give me an injection of radioactive dye as a part of the procedure. It’s a good job I said yes. On returning from my bathroom break, and reporting my success, she was much relieved ~ as was I.

Before I knew it, two other nurses, a woman and a man, hustled me in to the 'breezy' MRI room containing a big white open-ended tunnel that looked very suitable for testing the aerodynamic qualities of jets. I was impressed and keen to get on with it ~ especially as it was a bit drafty around the rear of the fetching pink gown I was half-wearing.

Getting me in, was all too rushed, confusing and uncomfortable. Not much room for elbows and knees and many things they tried to put into place got trapped. I was the only one aware of these bits and pieces, so naturally I had to shift them. This self-help was not appreciated ~ I should have known better. Then from behind, they suddenly clamped huge headphones on me that felt as if they would crush my head flat ~ ear to ear. And finally, before they left, as they guided me in feet-first on the electric platform, I was partially strangled by the headphones cable around my neck.

I remembered reading that I had to wear these headphones because, according to the instructions, the machine would make a 'loud buzzing/tapping noise and produce some vibration'. In reality, this quaint description proved to be somewhat inaccurate, and would have been better written as:- 'Keith Moon the drummer from The Who, going berserk on a demented solo; an impatient plumber struggling with a jammed pipe, desperate to get on with his next job; prisoners in jail banging tin mugs on their bars in protest; a scene from a World War Two submarine movie with echo-location pinging all over me, depth-charges exploding, about to send me to the bottom; and 'Mayday' being repeatedly and frantically tapped out in Morse; or being caught in a car in a hail storm'. But hey, what do I know!?

Surreally superimposed on all this clatter and cacophony, were the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra crooning in my ears.... "Come fly with me, come fly, let's fly away...."  Lasting nearly an hour, the whole thing was hilarious and distressing at the same time. I kept wondering to myself, is this what it's supposed to be like, or is the machine about to blow up with me in it?

To be fair, they did give me a little rubber ball to squeeze to alert them if I was worried about anything or needed to stop. But breathing, laying back and being mindful of the whole wondrous experience was the only realistic option. Escape and resistance was futile.

Afterwards.... curious about how the scan imagery would eventually turn out, and slowly recovering over breakfast in the hospital restaurant, I notice an inscription on my stainless steel knife blade ~ it says 'Utopia'.

Perfect!!