My MRI

I actually got my MRI tonight (at seven POST meridian, thank you) and I am sure it will now sit on the doctor’s desk while he takes a month-long vacation. Seriously, his vacation starts Friday.

As I slid into the machine, I thought two things:

“MY GOD how fat am I? I don’t remember my arms scraping against the sides of the MRI before!”

and

“What does that little sign by the red light say? That’s tiny print. Do…not…look..directly…at…(ow!)…laser.”

When I slid back out forty-five restful minutes later, I mentioned to the technician that they might want to reconsider where they put the don’t stare at the laser sign, and she said that in the past she would tell people to close their eyes until they were all the way in. That just made them look for whatever dangerous thing it was they weren’t supposed to see. And, she said I was one of the last people to use this MRI, because it was ancient and they are retiring it next week.

“It’s small!” I cried.

“Yes,” she said, “It’s our smallest one.”

So, I’m NOT fat, the MRI just shrunk.