MRI.2

There are a lot of Freudian-like comments I can make about having an MRI, but I will leave all of that to your own imagination.

This experience was very different from the first; I was inserted head-first after the technician put a grated mask around my face.

“It’s like Silence of the Lambs,” I said.

“Yeah, I haven’t heard that one before,” he curtly replied.

And so he left me for about 30 minutes in the tube to think about how unoriginal I was. I had been told it would take 45 minutes for a complete head scan. When challenged, my new technician friend told me that he had “cut it short”. What?!

However, the worst enemy of the day was not the technician or my lack of creative humor. It was, in fact, my own body. Broccoli, my post-digestion nemesis, made a surprise sneak-attack while I was strapped down and instructed not to move a muscle. Mind you, I was in a poorly ventilated tube with the diameter of about 2 feet.

If my humor didn’t knock ‘em dead, asphyxiation sure would.