I’ve been a bit of a Dolly Daydream of late and this blog post will probably be all over the place and not make sense but then, do they ever?
I sent the wolfits to be looked after when I went out and this is the picture I received:
“Hey, look at that human out there. Do you think we could eat him?”
“Hmm, he looks a bit stringy. I prefer someone with a bit more marbling, you know?”
“Marbling? What are we, wolf food critics now? Maybe we should wait for a plump jogger, they gotta be well-seasoned.”
“Good point. And let’s avoid the ones in spandex. Too much synthetic flavour.”
“Agreed. Oh, here comes someone with chicken legs! Think they marinate in hot sauce?”
“Or maybe Worcester sauce and mustard? Either way, it’s a feast in disguise!”
Apparently, they caused quite a stir in the neighbourhood with onlookers arriving with cameras. If only the street snacks had known what the wolfits were thinking as they scanned the menu.
I had to go for an MRI to see if I still had a soul.
I had a whole list of things I could and couldn’t do before going. A very long one.
Not eating 6 hours before. Damn. I hate waking up and missing out on bacon. What’s food got to do with a big magnet? No iron tablets then.
Bring a CD, it said. CD? Who has CD’s? Is there not enough cash in the NHS for a bit of streaming?
Fillings? Do they count, metal fillings? Will I turn into The Mask whilst slumbering in my inner tube?
Anyway, so it went. Checking off an A4 page of do’s, don’ts and have you’s. First off, let me tell you that finding clothes without metal in is more difficult than you think. I didn’t want to strip off into one of those hospital gowns where your arse hangs out. Not when the scanner I was going to was in a portable unit outside. It’s a bit parky round here at the moment.
Even a sports bra has tiny metal clasps for strap adjustment. Honestly, the palaver of it all. I very nearly rolled up in my pyjamas.
I wasn’t really worried about this procedure until I got there. Medical people have a way of making you panic with their wording. I wonder if this is sometimes deliberate.
“Please fill in this health questionnaire.. Check it twice. It’s vitally important.”
“We will be flooding your system with a dye…”
“Are you sure there is no metal in your body? No recent operations? No tattoos?”
What? I am now absolutely terrified that there might be a piece of metal I’ve forgotten about lingering inside.
“Are you OK with confined spaces? Loud noises?”
Well I wasn’t but now I think I might be…
Anyway, into the tray I got. If I explode then I explode, I thought stoically.
They lay some sort of mat on top of me and strapped it on – probably so I couldn’t escape. They gave me some headphones and told me to listen to the instructions once they’d pushed me in. They gave me a buzzer in case I freaked out which only goes to make you think you’re going to freak out. I think the worst part was the cannula – never liked those things.
“Halfway through, when we insert the contrast dye, you may feel nauseous, breathless, and dizzy.”
“Well that’s made me feel relaxed.”
“It doesn’t usually happen…” (Menacing glint noticed in medics eye. Perhaps you’ll be the first though…)
I had visions of being disorientated and vomiting in my test tube and how horrific that would be. This is the problem, I have a vivid imagination and it’s best not to tell me anything. In fact, that should be the first bloody question on the list.
Are you good at inventing possible scenarios?
Do you have a wild imagination?
“YES!”
In that case we will either sedate you or ignore you.
Off I went like a steak on a Sainsburys checkout conveyer belt ready to be bleeped.
“BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT. AND HOLD YOUR BREATH!”
Blimey, hyperventilating…
BEEP BEEP BEEP
CLANG BANG DONK
“PLEASE RESUME NORMAL BREATHING!”
(Gasp, gasp, fear, sweat)
When I wasn’t beeping, clanging and shuddering, I had 40 minutes of imagining what was going on in my body.
Hmmm… how big is this magnet… I’m sure I can feel my blood rising to the surface. Are my red blood cells about to burst forth like red champagne? Maybe that’s why they ask you about recent operations – so you don’t explode. I’m sure I can feel a tingling in the side of my head. Eww. Did my mother have something done to me when I was a child and failed to inform me? OH MY GOD my leg twitched. Surely the scan man will have spotted that? He said there was a camera… Don’t know where, I can’t see a camera. Perhaps I should blink rapidly 5 times as a sign.
“BREATHE IN”
OH GOD
I’m sure I’ve heard of Magnet Therapy. Don’t people buy things with magnets in to stop pain? Maybe this thing will get rid of any pain like a giant paracetamol! People in California probably have MRI’s as a spa treat. I mean, it’s right up Gwyneth Paltrow’s street, innit?
“HOLD YOUR BREATH”
Gulp!
And before you ask why I wouldn’t read up on such a thing beforehand is because I would hyper-focus on something I didn’t like the sound of and then talk myself out of going. I once had a medical book taken away from me as I was convinced at one time that I was the only woman alive to have had a dropped testicle along with foot and mouth disease.
Right now this is leading technology but in years to come they will look back at this barbaric human tumble dryer and wonder what on earth we were on with.
They let me out of the machine, told me I had been an excellent patient, leading the way in patient behaviour. I waited for my lollipop but didn’t get one. Still, happy to have made it out without any of the nasties. They didn’t mention if they found a soul or not. I’ll have to wait for the powers that be to have a good look. I think they’re going to find I’m an anomaly and I may have opened a new door into medical science!
Another one has opened in the guise of a challenge. This one is a painting a day for a 100 days with a prompt word given. Don’t worry, I’m not going to overload you with the results of that mammoth task but there may be the odd random picture thrown in.
100 days… that really IS a challenge.
Here’s the way of the sacred Tex:
16 Comments on From Wild Gazes to Medical Rays
LL
21st Feb, 2024 15:02
I don’t know about your other readers, but I was profoundly disappointed not to have your text accompanied by photos of you wearing a hospital gown…and all. Yes, I’ll get over it in time.
Meanwhile, I’m reading Slow Horses book five, “London Rules,” as I bash ahead of the television series and binge-read. I keep looking for your character in the cast (Lady Di?) but none of them have a pack of wolves trailing them everywhere, waylaying the unwary. See what you’ve done to me?
Jules Smith
22nd Feb, 2024 11:02
Ah, I got away with the hospital gown, thank God!
Book 5 already! Is it good? It must be. I knew you’d love this.I should be in it – with wolves. What I’ve done to you is given you a real life character. Now you need to write a version with me in it!
Roger B
21st Feb, 2024 16:02
Julesy, speaking as one who (thanks to mild claustrophobia) definitely freaks out when inserted into a metal sewer pipe, I gotta say your description of the MRI Adventure is perfect! Perhaps an MRI Thrill Ride could be part of the next “Survivor” series.
This reader looks forward to some of your paintings, as watercolors seem to be your forte.
Jules Smith
22nd Feb, 2024 11:02
Roger, anyone with claustrophobic tendencies must hate that and I feel sorry for you. I don’t have any such thing but you start to get a bit nervy nonetheless. Maybe I should write the NHS letter for people so they know what to expect. At least they could have a laugh.
I keep trying! Thank you, it keeps me out of trouble….for the main part!
Masher
21st Feb, 2024 16:02
Hospital gown with your arse hanging out the back… it’s the only reason I’m here.
Jules Smith
22nd Feb, 2024 11:02
You’re so easy. It must be a Brit thing!
the late phoenix
21st Feb, 2024 16:02
Helena Bonham Carter energy!!!
everything tastes better with a little butter chicken-glaze sautee. i can imagine seeing the two wolfits staring at you from the window would be a daunting sight!!! there’s a sculptor’s shoppe at The Barnyard where a clay butt stares at you from the window.
i don’t think i have a soul, i put my hand on a bathroom scale and it always reads out 0. i can’t do hospital stuff right now, my mom is very sick and i’m scared, stressed-out, and drained
where’s Tom Cruise? he hasn’t done a good samurai film lately…
*)
Jules Smith
22nd Feb, 2024 11:02
She has the best kind of energy.
I think they scare people because they are so big and also very quiet – that is unnerving.
I’m not sure I have a soul – Maybe I have several.
I’m so sorry to hear about your mum, I hope she’s getting good care and you need to make sure you are getting help too. It’s horrible to be stressed and scared. Be kind to yourself.
I don’t know where he is. Probably at the plastic surgeon. *)
Al Kirk
21st Feb, 2024 21:02
Critters at the window. I prefer they bark as I wander by. The quiet ones are plotting your demise with barbecue sauce.
Sorry to hear of the MRI experience. Hoping all tests come back ok.
Doors, yes, look like southing from the Mexico world. Well done. The light house, I never much liked them, shining a light on me every few seconds while trying to sleep.
Now Samuri Tex… excellent. He needs to visit the restaurant with you. I’d get him some bun cha… easy to pick up and gobble down.
Good luck on 100 days of art… that really is a challenge.
Jules Smith
22nd Feb, 2024 11:02
They are very quiet, Al. They only bark when absolutely necessary. They just stare fixedly which I think is worse.
Well I hope so too. I’m erring on the positive! Thank you.
You are very smart! That is, in fact, a painting from a photo of a door I took in New Mexico. I took many door photos in the adobe houses in Santa Fe. I thought they were adorable.
I quite fancy some bun cha – I bet Samurai Tex would too!
I know. I like self torture!
Ed Bonderenka
22nd Feb, 2024 11:02
Bo Lollipop! This took a dark turn….
Jules Smith
23rd Feb, 2024 09:02
Everything on here takes a dark turn! But only in the best black comedy way!
paracelsus
22nd Feb, 2024 15:02
“Do you have a wild imagination?”
not at all. I’m not irrationally anxious (the shrink disagrees), not everyone can see the formless figures in the shadows on moonless night; it’s OK, I’m ready to repel them, by any means (even the wheels of my walker).
don’t strap me down, Please. Please.
BTW:
he finished reading his first book early this AM, so proud of himself nearly burst out of his skin, still a month short of five; (think the Monstory cards had anything to do with it?)
Jules Smith
23rd Feb, 2024 09:02
Now that’s a wild imagination. You’re not alone! I see them too…
CONGRATULATIONS! That’s fantastic. I bet you’re buzzing.
The Monstory Cards are always magic!
drjim
28th Feb, 2024 00:02
I’ve had several MRI’s with and without the contrast dye, this last year. Doesn’t bother me a bit, but then I know how they work. The big mat they put on you was a “shield” to keep the magnetic field away from certain areas.
And I always thought that the the contrast dye gave me the feeling of just having taken a shot of really good Bourbon.
Hope the results are “negative” for any bad things.
Jules Smith
28th Feb, 2024 18:02
Yes, I had to be scanned without it first and with it after. Thank you for letting me know what the mat was for!
I’d rather take the bourbon – that stuff mad eye tired. Maybe American contrast is better. Ours is probably tea!
Thank you kindly, drjim- it should be fine.
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