Anybody Know What MRI Stands For?

Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Like this one.

Not my actual MRI.

I needed an updated image of my scaphoid from last February, and I also needed updated images of my poor, dilapidated, eight-pregnancy pelvis (first images taken here). Both images were scheduled for the same evening.  I thought I was pretty smart.

The wrist image was most uncomfortable, with arm strapped down over my head and my face plastered against the pillow.  Twenty minutes of that and I was about ready to . . . I don't know what.

Then it was time for my hips.  They taped my toes together, covered me with a few blankets (why it needs to be 62 degrees in there I don't know), replaced the headset, handed me the panic button and sent me back into the tube.  This arrangement was almost pleasant, especially compared to the over-the-head position I'd just experienced.

Ten minutes later, I was unexpectedly removed from the tube.

The technicians pulled up my gown, looked all over my left leg, all through the blanket, searching for . . . something.  I had no idea what was going on, and they were hesitant to talk.  After a few minutes, they admitted that some stray speck of metal was either in the blanket, on the bed, or on me somewhere near my left leg, and its presence was interfering with the scan.  Weird--I'd just been in that tube for 30 minutes, people.  Never finding anything, they reinserted me into the tube (I'm beginning to sound like the specimen I felt like).

Ever heard the story of the frog in the pot of water--how if the water is boiling initially, he jumps out, but if the water is cold then gradually heated he'll boil to death?  I felt like that frog. I began to feel warmth on my left knee.  Nothing really, probably just a wire on my leg or something.

No. That is a little warm right there.

Then it began to get warmer.  And warmer and warmer.  Finally it was hot, and I could no longer attribute it to my imagination.  Now what do I do?  Just finish the test?  I held on for another minute, but the sensation was beginning to actually burn me.

I squeezed the panic button.  Nothing happened.  I squeezed it again, because now I knew something was there, and it hurt.

The technicians pulled me out for the final time, asking with what seemed like real concern, "What's wrong?  Are you okay?"  I explained the feeling in my left knee, and when I pulled up my gown, there was an unmistakeable red spot over my kneecap.

"We can't complete the test.  You've already been in the tube too long, and it may elevate your core body temp too much.  We'll have to reschedule it, maybe with a lower-strength magnet."  Then they began acting all kinds of weird, somehow insisting it was my fault that I hadn't completed the scan.  I asked to see the images, and there was a smoky haze coming directly from the area of my knee, clouding the images.

Was I to blame somehow, even though I'd successfully completed many images, or was the suddenly strong lingering scent of cigarette smoke the culprit?  I'll never know.

Test has been rescheduled for Friday.

All I know is this:  MRI possibly stands for

May Randomly Ignite.

Specimen beware!

Editor's note:  For those of you holding your breath for my entrance into the pinterest/facebook world, I want you to know that my computer has been down for the last few days. "But how have you been posting, hmm?"  On Brad's computer, of course.  "Why does that matter, Miss Chicken-of-Everything-Facebook/Pinterest?  Just an excuse, Missy."  Actually, all my passwords, etc., are on my computer, and without access to those secrets, Facebook/Pinterest was locked for me.  Luckily, Brad found the problem, and my afternoon has been set aside for such guilty pleasures as these (and to post/email Tucker's last letter, for those of you waiting for it.  Secret addresses/passwords/pictures for his stuff are also lost within its confines.)  Is this a sign to keep that info in more than one place?