One more hat for my rack.

Today I went for my MRI on this stinkin' back issue. Now it is more of a back/leg issue. The vicodin takes the edge off of the pain in my legs so that I can sit or drive for more than 2 minutes. It also is doing a nice job on stopping my monthly bosom pain, so that is a delightful added benefit.

I have never had an MRI before. When it comes to new-for-me medical procedures I generally put on my Adventurer Hat and go in brave and bold. I like to think of it all as a new experience and how can that be bad? Sure, it might be uncomfortable, but I try to talk myself into thinking of the discomfort as part of the experience. This manner of thinking has carried me through my first pelvic exam, child birth, broken bones and stitches. It seems to work for me.

I put on my adventure hat ( and Bruce Springsteen, Hard Rock T-shirt I thought it gave off a certain vibe) and went to the hospital. Adventurer Susan filled out her paperwork, took off all her metal jewelry, slipped out of her bra and into some jammy pants. Each instruction and step I took like I was learning how to rappel down Kilimanjaro. All very important to the experience.

The tech took me into the room, after I carefully selected my music. He tried to sway me toward Latino Classic but I held firm with 70's and 80's tunes. He asked if I wanted an eye shade so that I couldn't see that I was in such a tight space. I passed. Adventurer Susan didn't need no stinkin' eye shade. Even in the coffin they put me in. That is the first thing I thought when the table was slid into the MRI tube. Coffin. Great.

I sort of heard the first song in my headphones. The MRI machine is pretty loud. Carpenters. Great. She's dead. In a coffin. Just like me. The next song was Wind Beneath My Wings. Another chick in a coffin song. I didn't hear the other songs, so I can't tell you if there was some sick theme going on. The machine got very loud, and I took every ounce of brain power to go lay on the beach on St Johns. Then I prayed. I heard we should do that without ceasing. Sounded like a good thing to do at this point . It helped keep my breathing at a steady level and keep my head free of images of House episodes where weird things happen to people in machines just like this one .

Somewhere mid prayer I realized I had to pass gas. Big decision here. Try to keep it in and ladylike or let it fly? I opted for the latter. I had been told to lay still and sucking in toots requires some movement. I let it rip. Loudly. I even heard it over the machine noise. I did have a brief moment when I imagined one of the techs just outside of the machine. Certainly I wouldn't be the first, or last, person to have gaseous intestinal by-products during an MRI.

Then I did it again a few minutes later. This one was silent though. I took a moment to try and figure out how many ways to say " fart:--cut the cheese,anal salute, pass wind, poot, toot, stinker.. that's about how far I got before the tech announced through my headset that we were done and I would be slid out in a moment.
I was done and out with my souvenir disc ( " In case your doc wants you to see a specialists you will have a copy."). Back in the Mystery Machine and home. Another adventure completed. Except that it is Friday. I have to wait all weekend to hear back from my doc. And this, dear reader, is why they call us PATIENTS! I wonder if I can get a pith helmut through as a medical deduction?