My Alzheimer's Journey
Part 46 - I Had My Second MRI This Afternoon.
It is a cold, rainy day in Durham. Dreary. Miserable.
I have been in a funk the past few days. Depressed and sad.
Having an MRI scan of my brain was not something I wanted today.
The experience went like this:
You lay down on the MRI table. A wedge pillow is placed under your legs. Ear plugs are inserted. Headphones are placed over your ears. Finally, a helmet contraption is attached over your head.
My anxiety is rising rapidly.
The technician handed me a panic button - just in case.
The dreadful ride into the tunnel begins. I close my eyes, so I do not see just how small the tube is.
Once inside the tube, there is silence. Stillness.
Suddenly, the damn machine starts whirring. It sounded like flight takeoff preparations. Then, the knocking begins.
Clanging. Banging.
Every few minutes, there is a period of silence.
Then the craziness returns. More banging. More vibrations. Louder than before.
I kept wondering when the madness will stop.
Sixteen minutes after the machine swallowed me, I felt the table move.
It was finally over.
My MRI souvenir is a headache.
