MRI : A Cruel Meeting Of Medicine And Muzak
This morning I had an MRI, which is a fairly claustrophobic experience under the best of circumstances. The technician asked me if I was comfortable with being in a confined space for 40 minutes or so, and I told him there would be no problems with that. He said the machine is quite loud and gave me a pair of headphones to wear while inside the machine. This would allow him to communicate with me during the scan, and would also help block out some of the considerable noise it generates during operation. The last question he asked me was “would you like to listen to some music while we do the scan?”, which seemed like a thoughtful idea and I was happy to have something to listen to. Thirty seconds later I was whisked into the cramped space inside the MRI. It’s a little like being buried alive I suppose. And what did I have for my listening pleasure? Kenny G. Buried alive with Kenny G as my soundtrack. It was a brief eternity in Hell. Or in Hell’s elevator at least. Immediately I resolved to live a better life and maybe go to church more frequently.
This is a good lesson. Remember to clarify important details.
Remember this when you’re telling a genie your wish, too.
I recently had an MRI as well. At least I was able to listen to the Jack FM radio station. 🙂