Just Another Day In Disneyland

This post really has nothing to do with Disneyland, Mickey Mouse, or anything fun in general.  I was being facetious or perhaps satirical verging on sardonic, but certainly not serious.  Because, you see, this post is about how I was psychologically tortured in the name of medical science.  The instrument of horror was an MRI scanner ..no, really.
I suppose an MRI scanner might not seem that horrifying if you’re not desperately claustrophobic but I am, of course,  desperately, freakishly claustrophobic.  And with MRIs you lie down on this narrow little slide that slides your whole body right into a tiny little tunnel—in other words, delivers you unto hell.  I mistakenly thought that Stanford, being on the cutting edge of technology, would most likely have those new MRI scanners called “open” scanners that do not enclose you in a tiny tunnel-tube like the traditional scanners do.  But evidently the quality of the open scanners isn’t as good as the closed ones so you can guess the rest.
Yes, there was no open scanner for me, no such luck.  But I was reassured that their scanner had a “short-bore” tunnel which is shorter and open on the other end so it could be tolerated by claustrophobics.  This, of course, was said by someone who is not claustrophobic and, therefore, doesn’t really get the concept.  Being enclosed inside a plastic tunnel that is so small that you feel hermetically sealed doesn’t feel much better just because there is an opening somewhere at the other end.  Supposedly, your head can be out the other end with these new machines but the truth is that only the rare ultra-short bores are short enough so that I, or anyone else not in the NBA, could have their head outside the plastic coffin because the body part to be scanned must be in the center of the machine.  So unless you're eight feet tall and/or having your toe scanned your head will not be happily sticking outside.  Blatant false advertising or cruel hoax perpetrated by sadistic bastards?  You be the judge.
As the (very hot) lab technician had me hop up on the monster I froze in a horrified stupor at the sight of the endless narrow Tube of Terror.  He gave me earplugs (it’s really noisy) and had me lie down.  I was immediately overcome with the unmistakable beginnings of a panic attack and practically leapt off the fucking thing, pulling out my earplugs and explaining that my head was about to explode from a massive panic attack.
I was mortified, of course.  Being a big baby in front of others is always embarrassing enough but being a big baby in front of a very hot guy made me want to puke, which would have only made things even worse ..which is almost unimaginable.
Anyhoo, I was hoping he had calming drugs to offer but of course it was too late for that so he started trying to convince me to just give it a try.  I honestly have no idea how I managed to do it but I did. “You’re head will only be a few feet from the opening” he said in an ill-fated attempt to be soothing, “doesn’t that make you feel better?”  I wanted to say, “Actually, that makes me want to kick you in the shin and run screaming out the door,” but he was so well-meaning and ..well ..hot.   
At this point I think mortification overcame panic.  I used every tool in my mental arsenal, including writing this entry in my head.  I was in there for about 25 minutes, which could have been an eternity, but I was able to psyche myself out enough to get through it.  The tech had given me a panic button and that gave me something to cling to —the fact that I could be out of there within seconds if I needed to.
The noise, even with earplugs, was horrendous.  BLEEEEP, BLEEEP, BLANG, BLANG, TWANG, TWANG, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK over and over and over. Really strange and annoying sounds like you’d expect from the floor of the Ford auto plant but not so much from high tech medical equipment. I don’t understand why it’s so noisy and usually my natural curiosity would have caused me to research it to find out but I literally couldn’t even stand to think about it anymore.  Even thinking about it was giving me pangs of anxiety, that’s why I didn’t write about it yesterday.  The residual effect of the extreme adrenaline-spike had left me simultaneously knackered and on-edge.      
So, today I am just trying to feel all chuffed about overcoming my own ridiculousness.  I think it would be easier to feel good if I had slept well last night but I didn’t because I kept being awakened by bad dreams of the sweating and hyperventilating variety.  Go figure. 

Comments

[A.]

Poor clausterphobic monkey! I guess that when I eventually deliver on all that cake I owe you, I should NOT make it one giant hollow cake and then ask you to jump out of it.

[A.]

I can't spell. D'oh!

[mike]

I hate those things. The "open" ones are not much better. I will say this though....the couple of times I have had them done, they could play music. I found that having them crank it way the hell up gave me something else to think about. The tight space doesnt freak me out. Its the tight space, lying still and the thumping, ratchety noise of the machine that gets me squirming around. I tought the last time I went they said I could even bring a walkman.

[AdventureGirl]

A.,I mis-spelled it exactly the same way you did when I first wrote it but the spell-checker on Word pointed out the error. (God, how I love spell-check!) One time typepad went wonky when I was writing a long entry and I lost the whole thing. After that I started using Word when I'm writing and then paste it when I'm finished.

[AdventureGirl]

I could not believe how loud the thing was! Even with earplugs. They didn't offer music, only earplugs ..and I didn't think about bringing my own so d'oh! for me too.

[P&T]

I’m forced to use the downstairs toilet from time to time and it has spiders and the like in there and when someone walks down the stairs it sounds like an earthquake. But most important of all, I can’t pee standing up.

You weren’t being a baby or ridiculous, but I’m bound to say that, what with being your fellow panic attack buddy and all. I haven’t had one for a while, but I’m not brave enough to overcome or face my fears head on right now. You overcame that dread machine, although, you did semi-cheat with the incentive of a hot lab guy only a button away.

My God, a number of sentences without one mention of firefly. This is the biggest achievement of my day thus far. Kinda’ puts things in perspective in comparison to your achievement. I don't like the sound of the side effects, some bad dreams=( Like Mike said, music would've helped a little, or a recording of captain Mal's voice. D'oh indeed.

*begrudgingly hands gold star to AG*

*fakes a panic attack*

[A.]

What's sad is that I knew how to spell it but when I type fast my fingers spell phonetically.

Stoopid fingers.