Thursday, December 20, 2007

M.R.AAAIIIIIIEEEEEE!

Holy mother of shit! What kind of sick FUCKDICK invented the MRI?! There is no fucking way that that thing passes Geneva Convention muster! Oh my shit, that was the most nerve-wracking, fucked up two hours of my life. It actually would've been funny, hilarious even, if it didn't suck so shittily. I swear, I was convinced that I was on an episode of Punk'd, where they'd invented this ridiculous machine, stuck me in it, and then blared these bone-vibrating alarm noises into my head for a couple of hours, just to see if my mind would explode. Oh my crap! What a dick that machine is.

Oh, and thanks for the 5 mg tab of Valium to relax me, Dr. W. That did ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY NOTHING! Next time, prescribe a giant mallet that the Old Lady can konk me in the head with, so I'll be unconscious for that magnetic torture chamber of horrors.

I go in there and change into the little gown thing. Didn't know if it was supposed to be the forward tying kind or the backward, so I did forward and hoped that nothing would sproing out at an inopportune moment. I get in the room and they say they're gonna do the brain first. I had headphones for that part, so it wasn't too bad. About 20 minutes of buzzing and beeping, but I was doing my deep breathing exercises and I didn't open my eyes to view the fucking death-tube I was wedged into, so it was okay.

Then, they pull my ass out and switch shit around for the spine part. They said the headphones wouldn't fit in there, so they gave me ear plugs that didn't fit, so basically it was going to be loud as fuck. Then they shove me waaaay into the tube and mention, at the last minute, that this part should take about 40 minutes. Motherfucker! I swear, waterboarding can't be any worse than that shit. It just didn't fucking end. After a while, I was started to freak out a bit and then made the HUGE mistake of opening my eyes. That was it. I squeezed that fucking ball they told me to squeeze if I needed anything and the little speaker said, "Can we help you?" I said, "Uh, yeah... I'm kinda losing my shit in here."

So I figured they'd let me out to chill for a sec, right? They said, "Just relax, and breathe deeply, and it'll be over soon." NO THEY DIN-UNH! Then they kept blasting the fucking tornado sirens in my ears and I continued to flip my lid. My hands and feet got totally tingly and my head was spinning. Total panic attack. But there was nothing I could do -- I sure as fuck didn't want to move and fuck it up so I'd have to do the whole fucking thing again.

Oh, and did I mention that I had to fucking piss like a race-horse that had to fucking piss an assload? So, a half-hour later, they pull me the fuck out, and I think it's all over. HA! The evil lab lady goes, "Okay, now we need to inject some dye into your arm and we'll do about another 20 minutes on the spine and then another shot with the head." All I heard was "You will die in 20 minutes." Which was actually quite comforting at that point.

And they wouldn't let me pee because I had to be in the same position for the next round. So, back in the tomb I went, my ureter filled taut like a fucking pee-filled balloon animal, and my synapses sparking and fizzling out by the second. And the sounds got louder and even more ridiculous. There's the pulsing "AH! AH! AH! AH! AH! AH," and the "EEE-AHH-EEEH-AAAAH-EEEH-AAAH." The worst ones were the long, continuous ones that kinda shifted waveforms throughout, occasionally syncing up with my brain waves and turning my grey matter into fucking Cream of Wheat -- "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
EEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOHHHHHH."

I swear to fuck, I couldn't imagine a worse torture for me. I was totally ready to give up any and all secrets I had about Mr. Z, Miss O and the Old Lady. All they had to do was ask and I'd turn 'em all the fuck in to the authorities. Luckily for them, it ended and they hauled my jittery ass out of the chunnel-of-terror once again.

I was just shy of spraying both technicians with a tsunami of piss, so I asked if I could PLEASE take a whiz-break. They said okay and told me to sit up. I did and almost passed out. I had to sit there for a second until the little swirly cartoon eyes I had stopped spinning and then I hobbled over to the crapper. It had to be the longest piss I've ever taken -- a good 4 and a half minutes of full-force golden firehose action. I realized, about halfway through it, that I still had my eyes closed. I pried them open and started to feel myself calming down a bit. When the well ran dry, I got up, splashed some water on my face and hobbled back to Dr. Magneto's Fright Funnel.

I hopped back up onto the table and finished the last 15 minutes of brain scan like a champ. Then they pulled me out, I hopped up, told the technicians that I was reporting them to the authorities, flipped them off and then high-tailed it outta there.

I don't care if they find a fucking leather-winged homunculus stirring a cauldron of aneurysm juice on those scans -- I will never go through that bullfuck again. Seriously. I'd rather have my head do this:



But it's done, so yay. For now, I think it's time to see how that Valium mixes with some Plymouth gin and a couple of olives.

7 comments:

matt said...

Holy fuckballs CD, that was intense. I got claustrophobic just reading it. Thanks for sharing. Now I know if I ever have to go through something like this I'll just have them cut off anything they need to scan and reattach it after.

Well, almost anything.

Monica said...

At an average of 2 fpp*, I can't wait to see your take on a colonscopy. Soldier on, CD.
.
.
*Fucks per paragraph

Monica said...

Sorry, colonoscopy.

Kim said...

As the victim of both a colonoscopy and an MRI, I'd have to say the colonoscopy wins HANDS DOWN.

The first time I went for an MRI, I flipped out so badly I had to leave. I had no idea I was so freakin' claustrophobic, and the MRI tunnel of doom is no place to figure that one out, for sure! When I did go back, and had to take an assload of valium to get through it. I TOTALLY SYMPATHIZE, DUDE.

As for the colonoscopy, I was out cold, so it was no big deal. Iffin' somebody's gonna stick a camera up my ass, out cold is definitely how I want to be.

I hope you find out what the hell's going on, and that they fix it pronto.

queen lisa of montreal said...

I'm glad to hear that the kiddie cartel can still export contraband Pez kits, and that you didn't turn them in. You're a trooper. Like Kim, I'm hoping all is well and dealt with sooner than soon. Although I have an MRI for the first week of January, am claustrophobic AND have anxiety attacks...so I'm thinking I might be in touch to get some of your kids' "candy" before they hit the streets with it. By the sounds of it, I'll need it. If you're drunk when you go for an MRI, do you suppose it changes the results? What if your blood has turned to vodka, does that raise their suspicions? Hmmmmm...I hope you get easily dealt with results, and that you have a nice couple of weeks of holidays, crabbyd. Be well.

Emily Ashe said...

Hi Crabby

I found your blog through Natasha's....reading this literally made me claustrophobic. I guess thats a sign of really good writing though. haha. Great blog!

Emily

Quirkee James said...

Holy Shit! That was intense even for me. I need a drink.