Just a normal procedure ... or so I was told

‘Don’t move, but you can breathe,’ said the medical technician, which was good news because I like breathing.

He strapped my head tightly on to a sliding table as I lay wearing a gown that awkwardly opened on the back. I had earlier tried tying up the drawstrings at the back and now know how difficult it is for women when they zip up their dress; either you have to be a contortionist or a yoga expert to get dressed up every day.

I had slipped my hands into the gown sleeves from the front and tied up the strings, but it kept flapping open and slipping off my shoulders as I held my watch, wallet and phone in one hand and tried to cover up with the other while walking through the corridor. I could feel the chill of the air-conditioning on my nether parts.

I think it is mandatory in the medical profession to first strip away all your dignity when you go seeking help.

The technician then strapped my head into a contraption that seemed like something from the movie Saw and the nurse kindly covered my legs with a fleece blanket.

An hour earlier, she had taken me aside and explained what was going to happen. “This is the machine,” she said, pointing to a colour brochure which extolled the virtues of the contraption. “Its perfectly harmless,” she smiled and told me not to worry as the machine operators would be watching me through a window.

But then what was worrying was that she took out a sheet and made me sign it. It said that I take full responsibility, if God forbid, anything happens to me, or words to that effect. Then she whisked away the paper happily and said: “It’s just a normal procedure” and asked me to wait.

For the next hour, nobody called me, but I could see a woman who was waiting along with me go inside a room and I never saw her again. Maybe I had missed her coming out while I was busy playing on the smart phone, I tried to comfort myself.

Technology has helped save so many lives, but for some reason, people, meaning me, still get a bit anxious in a hospital setting.

Finally, I was shoved under a large, white dome which loomed just an inch away from my eyes and I was already feeling disoriented and on the verge of panicking. I wondered if taking deep breaths was considered as moving. The technician had warned me that if I moved it would blur the reading.

Subhead

The nurse then bent down and looked at me under the dome and said: “This will make some sounds,” and she and the technician went out of the room.

For some reason, images from a movie scene came flashing into my mind: A villain had trapped our hero in a tanning-machine like contraption and was turning up the heat slowly, agonizingly, while laughing maniacally all the while.

I could now hear sounds as if someone was drumming deep in the forest somewhere and then the sound changed to a staccato like someone drilling on the road and I could feel the vibrations in my body.

Suddenly, there was silence, the door opened and the technician came in and pulled me out from under the dome. “Sorry, there’s something wrong, we need to start it again,” he said.

The machine again failed the second time when I went under the dome and somebody called IT and as I lay there I wondered what would happen if the power failed.

Anyway, I hope the MRI results show there’s nothing wrong and explain why I have this tingling feeling in my fingers and neck for which I had gone to the doctor in the first place.