Friday morning arrived at the front door of my mind carrying with it plenty of sluggish luggage. When I didn't answer, it just knocked harder, louder, longer. Finally, I chugged and sputtered out of bed feeling like my brain was coated in a thick jelly.
Hung-over is too gentle a description.
"Coffee - that'll help," I thought.
As I sipped my third cup, the true length of the day settled in. "I hate MRIs," reverberated in my jelly filled head.
"So, what are you, about 6'2"...6'3?" asked MRI Guy.
"Yeah..about that," I replied.
"You know, at that height, I mean, we could, ya' know, do this without meds. Your head will be outta' the tube and it's only a 20 minute test so, if ya' wanna' do this without meds, I mean, we could. Of course, up to you," said MRI Guy.
"Yeah, well, I hated the last one. I'll stick with meds," I said.
"Ok, but, like I said it's only a 20 minute test and your head will be outta' the tube and everything, so ya' know, you could," said MRI Guy.
I wondered if "WIMP" had magically appeared on my head like some sort of stigmata.
"Like I said, I hated it. Meds for me," I replied tersely.
He escorted Elle and me into a "SEDATION" room (and, why not call this RELAXATION and be just a pinch more consumer centric is beyond me) where I donned paper pants and shirt and skid free socks. You never know how many people will break out into a Tom Cruise Risky Business Hall Way Slide while waiting for an MRI.
MRI Guy comes back after 10 minutes or so and asks, one more time, if I might, just might want to try this thing without meds. I want to punch him. He doesn't understand of course how nasty I can get without food or water; how tasty his right arm really looks right now. I have a strong urge to bite him.
But, I just say, "NO" and chew up a specially formulated ZANEX which has the most bitter taste I can ever recall.
MRI Guy asks me to lie down and then covers me up with a blanket. It's 102 degrees outside, and I appreciate this token gesture of customer service, but I would rather have a chilled rag.
After about 15 minutes, MRI Guy pokes his head in and says,"So, how ya' feelin'?"
I hate that; ask me some generic question and expect a specific answer. How the hell do I know? I'm on ZANEX, remember? So, I say, "I don't know. Ok, I guess. How am I supposed to feel?"
To which, MRI Guy replies, "Well, wanna' give it a try?" as if I'm about to get on a ride at Six Flags. Yippeee! The MRI Daddy! Can I ride? Huh? Huh? Can I?
These are things that float through your mind when you're on ZANEX.
So, off I go into the MRI room. I lie down on the table and suddenly, as if he popped out the Dreaded Tube, I see what might be a troll standing next to me. I think the ZANEX is kicking in big time.
"So, Hey there Big Guy! Are you ready? Here's the deal, now, as you slide into this tube, I'm gonna' ask you to just lift those big feet up a little 'cuz, ifya' don't, well, your knee caps are gonna' rub on the top the tube and that's not gonna' feel too good so lift'em up when I tell ya', Ok? And, don't cross your arms but keep'em up 'cuz as big as you are you're gonna' rub the side of tube too," Troll Guy booms in a big, baritone voice with the speed of one of those announcers at the end of a commercial reading all the fine print and disclaimers.
Troll Guy slides me in the tube, tells me to life my feet, which I do but not enough as my knee caps jam into the top of the tub so I lift them higher until Troll Guy says "Ok, that's it." And, my knee caps are firmly pressed against the top of the tube with each shoulder snuggly packed in on the sides. Sardine comes to mind.
But, I don't care.
ZANEX is king.
The absolute King of Never Caring Land. I laid in the tube for 30 minutes with all sorts noise and movement and rubbing on my knee caps and pressing on my shoulders and at one point I looked up and was ALL THE WAY IN THE TUBE! You LIAR!
But, I don't care.
Once the test was over, I stumbled back into the SEDATION ROOM, and made a poor attempt at dressing my self. I managed to do it but from the way Elle described it, I was aiming poorly for various leg and arm openings in my clothes.
By the time I arrived home, I was trashed. As I got out of the car, I tripped over a plant, careened off one of the cars in the garage, bumped into a shelving unit and finally came face to face with the door. Big Guy was walking a like a little guy; like the 3 years old kind of little.
I don't remember too much else that happened that afternoon other than trying to eat a sandwich and having a hard time figuring out that my mouth was not on the side of my face.
I fell asleep for a little over three hours, got up, not sure what I did and went to bed to wake up with Friday morning knocking on my door with plenty of sluggish luggage.
And, the results from all of this? What did my MRI show?