Through A Scanner (Darkly).

It may surprise people to know that, despite appearances, I have quite a rational approach to life and tend not to be phased by very much nowadays.

Even after an initial slight 'wobble' at the start of this whole Optic Neuritis episode I find I'm back on a fairly even keel.

I've no fear of passing through what ever door awaits me even though the path to that door might prove difficult to travel.

My impending MRI scan presented no particular difficulty,  after all I'd had one before.
Except it turns out I hadn't actually had an MRI scan, what I had was a CT scan which, to my vague memory was quite a short affair.

Still, so what?

I'm a big bloke and I know the difference between a real threat and a perceived threat.

Mystic Rog collected me from home and we drove to Chichester discussing the Beatles musical legacy and how they seem to have become woven into the cultural mythology of our muddy little island and...

I'll cut to the chase.

I followed the yellow dots on the floor to the MRI Dept and, after just getting myself comfortable in the waiting area, was summoned.

I was greeted by a pretty, smiley nurse and asked lots of questions about pace-makers and implants.

Having established there was nothing that would cause a problem in a highly magnetic environment, and after agreeing to let Mystic Rog have my ukulele collection in the event of any mishap, I was brought face to gaping maw with the scanner:

I gave my iPod to Mystic Rog and the doors closed behind me.

At this point I still had it in my stride.

I laid on the laying on bit and a set of headphones was placed on my head.

The sound came through tubes as conventional headphones are a no-no because of the magnets.

I was given a 'panic button' to hold.

More like a 'panic squeezy rubber bulb to be precise but, hey, why on earth did they think I need some kind of panic button?

A cage was fitted in place over my head which had a mirror that showed my hands and the room beyond.
Would I like the radio (local station, Spirit F.M.) or would I prefer light classical?
"Light classical please".

'Are you O.K.?' 

'Yes, I'm O.K.'

I am slid into the tube.

'WOAH!'

I am slid back out of the tube.

My belt buckle is metal and was threatening to tear the front out of my trousers as it was tugged at by the magnetic field in the machine.

Belt removed, I'm fed back in.

To be honest, even after convincing myself that my experience as a caver would negate any feelings of claustrophobia I might feel, I didn't like being in the tube one little bit.

I couldn't understand it.

I was in a perfectly safe environment,  I had a panic button, I was laid down, it wasn't dark.
So, I was obviously being irrational and made myself get a grip of the situation.
I closed my eyes, focused my mind, and began deep breathing to combat any panic that may start to rise and also to block out Spirit F.M. because they hadn't changed over to the light classical music I'd requested.

There were several very loud noises that sounded like warning alarms then a sustained period of a continuous VERY LOUD NOISE.
This was repeated several times.

I took myself deeper into relaxation.

I had no sense of time passing but I began to want this experience to end.
The radio was staticy, indistinct and all but drowned out by the sound of the scanner.

I took myself deeper into relaxation.

The noise began to pulse, louder and louder.
ALARM!, ALARM!, ALARM!, ALARM!, ALARM!
For some reason my jaw began to spasm and a voice in my head started shouting.
"SQUEEZE THE PANIC BULB!!!".

An even louder voice shouted:

"GET A GRIP Y'WUSS!"

I took myself deeper into relaxation.

I avoided going into the sunny garden where that child sits waiting under a tree and found myself walking along the top of Great Wernside on a bright sunny day with a brisk good-to-be-alive breeze blowing through my hair.
I unpacked my picnic and had a drink of tea from my flask.
I sat and looked down over Scar House and Angram reservoi...

I slid out of the tube.

"You're doing really well."
"I just need to give you an injection"
"WHAT?'
"Nobody said anything about an injection!"(I said that in my head as I didn't want the nurse to think I was scared.)

Yes, yes, I have a bit of a problem with injections.

I am given an injection of dye and am told that only two more scans are needed and it should take around about another six minutes.

I slide back into the tube, I start relaxing, the noises begin again.

Then it's over.

I need help to stand up because my back is seised solid.
I feel very weird.
No, I feel VERY weird.

I am led out of the room and am relived to see Mystic Rog.
I asked how long I'd been in the scanner.
"Oh, about 45 minutes"

"WHAT?"

I was convinced it had only been about 10-15 minutes.

I don't understand this.
I don't understand this.
I don't understand this.
I don't understand this.

Let me get this into perspective.
All that happened was I asked to lay in a tube while a machine made a loud noise.
Toward the end of that process I was given an injection.

Fucking magnets, how do they work?