This morning I woke up super early and drove to a different part of town to have my PET scan. The entire weekend leading up to today’s appointment, I contemplated which genre of music I would be listening to while submerged in the undaunting machine.
Back and forth I considered and reconsidered the different selections of music. Should I listen to Broadway favorites like Chicago or Aida? Or do I think only Frank can calm me down? Maybe I should listen to Netflix comedy?
These internal conversations literally took place over several days and with great thought.
Now, a few things you should know- if my anxiety has yet to be identified by you- I do not like confined spaces. Ice castles and the MRI scene lay the groundwork for all sorts of fears. Once, I heard a tragic story where a woman’s oxygen tank was in the room where the MRI machine was and the magnetism was that strong that it flew to the machine and killed her. Therefore, I literally checked and rechecked what I was wearing to be certain there was absolutely no metal.
As I waited for the radioactive chemicals to take effect in my body, I was offered a relaxing spot in a small room with a black recliner. In fact, I had thought to myself- every waiting room should have recliners! Nonetheless, I asked for a heating blanket and sat until it was my turn.
Tech: Rochelle? We’re ready for you.
Me: OK. Do you have headphones?
Tech: Do you? You could use yours if you have any but the test should be around 10 minutes.
Me: (PAS) (pissed as shit) That for sure is something you should remind patients prior to coming- I spent all weekend choosing my music!
Tech: (blank stare) I want you to sit down with your head facing here (pointing to the opening of the intimidating machine.
So, I lay down, look up at the beautiful drop ceiling atmosphere tiles above, and then place my arms above my head in that ever so comfortable position for the next 10.
However, before I could even ask a question, the table began moving back towards the 5-foot deep hole and I watched the serene ceiling tiles disappear.
As the machine table moved me deeper within the machine, I kept my eyes shut tight and sang my own damn tunes (in my head). That’s when I heard….
Tech: Another 7 minutes; Stay still.
Me: (Noticing the speaker directly above my head) Hid Hu Hust Hay Huother Heven Hinutes?
Tech: Rochelle, are you ok?
Me: (trying my best to not move, I repeated) Did you just say another 7 minutes???
Tech: Yep; Hang in there.
Anyhow, two thoughts occurred to me then and there: I’d been in the machine for at least 8 minutes when she told me how much longer I had ….and if there was a speaker above my head- she could have easily talked to me the entire time or played the radio.