The tale of the MRI

Hello boys and girls. Today I’d like to tell you the tale of my first MRI.

The date was October 6th, 2014 [last Monday]. The time, 8:45pm. I arrived at the UCLA Revlon Center in plenty of time to find my location, but ended up wandering the streets lost for about 15 minutes anyway, turning around over and over trying to find myself on my phone GPS. What a fun beginning to this medical journey.


After I finally found the right building, I was exactly on time, and found my way to the reception desk. There was no one in sight. Just a lonely chair behind the desk. I checked to make sure I had to right place and time, and waited. I contemplated looking at the appointment list on the desk, but thought that might be illegal so I just stood awkwardly instead. After about 5 minutes and one bathroom trip, a woman showed up to tell me where to go for the MRI.


I filled out my paperwork, and was told to go change into my gown. I had a little changing room with my own locker and the gown was so big and comfy it felt like PJs so I did a little changing room dance. ‘This isn’t so bad at all!’ I thought. Oh, silly girl. What a fool you are.


I met the radiologist in the hall, and she said ‘Ok, lets get your IV in.’

Wait, what?



Nobody said ANYTHING about an IV. I hate IVs. I hate needles into my veins, and the only other time I’ve ever even HAD an IV was when I had my wisdom teeth out, so I immediately went to sleep, unconcious for most of the IV-having time.

Happy PJ-dancing time was over now. All I could do now was panic. And start sweating a little.

Ok. You can do this. Breathe. It’s FINE, you’re such a baby. Just do it. Sit down and look away and it will all be done in no time. How long is this MRI supposed to last anyway. Ok one issue at a time. Here we go.

She stuck the IV in. It really was just a little pinch, and I didn’t see it happen so it wasn’t that bad.

Then I looked at it.

Big mistake.

I saw the blood in the little tubey thing and the sweating started to increase. She told me to stand to walk into the room where we’d be doing the MRI. The room got white, and I started to sway. I can no longer hear anything she is saying to me.

‘I’m sorry I’m just a little light headed’ I said, still swaying and sweating.

She sat me down and asked if I needed oxygen, and I said yes. I couldn’t really see anything anymore so I thought, ‘Hey sure, oxygen might be nice.’ My gown is not a fun PJ party now, it is soaked through. I slumped down in my chair waiting for her to return with my oxygen mask while the machine mocked me with its sounds as if to say ‘The MRI hasn’t even started yet, boop beep, what a little sissy, bwahahaa!’


She returned with the mask, and I breathed in and out. This was turning out to be pretty horrible. My arm hurt. There were tubes sticking out of it, and I really didn’t care for it. On top of everything, the woman said ‘Next time tell someone that you faint when you get an IV’. UM LADY THIS ISN’T MY FAULT THANK YOU.


It was time for the MRI. I had to lie face down in the machine with my arms up over my head, the little tubes and all. The whole process would take 30 minutes and I couldn’t move at all during that time. She hooked my IV up to something called ‘contrast’ which I can only assume is some kind of frozen liquid metal because everytime she came over the speaker to say ‘contrast going in’ it felt the cold radioactive poison pumping into my veins. It felt like a scene out of Frankenstein and I was the sweaty monster.


She told me a few times to stop breathing so hard, so I tried to go into some kind of trance. I kept thinking of the scene from the 10th Kingdom when Wolf tells Virginia to slow her breathing until it’s very shallow so it looks like her chest isn’t moving. It sort of worked. THANK YOU TELEVISION!!!

It was over. She took the IV out, and helped me off the table. Leaving was a blur, so the next thing I remember is waiting in line at Diddy Riese to buy about 10 cookies and an ice cream sandwich as a reward for not dying. It was my beacon of hope at the end of this nightmare.


And I get to do in all again in a year.




One thought on “The tale of the MRI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s