Whimsy On A Wednesday and the art of observation!

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:

Wolfit Dialogue

“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.

Talking of scanning…

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!

Talking of Doors…

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. 

Talking of Warriors…

Here’s the way of the sacred Tex: