Today I journeyed to downtown Vancouver, to St. Paul’s Hospital, where I had my first-ever MRI.
The staff were very polite, friendly and professional. Everything was explained to me in detail. I squished the provided earplugs into my ears, then donned the headphones, through which they would speak breathing instructions to me. The process took roughly 30 minutes.
After changing into a hospital shirt and pants, which made me look like an extra from Scrubs, and removing my watch and glasses, I laid down on the bed of the MRI machine. They would be doing a “contrast” thing near the end, which required an IV, so dye could be injected into the bloodstream. My bloodstream. At this point, getting an IV just makes me shrug. Even the contrast thing was no big deal, as they had done the same when I got my CT scan earlier this year and that one made me feel like I had peed myself, which this one did not. I told them to use whichever arm was more veiny when they asked if I had a preference for where I wanted to be stabbed. They went left, as they usually do.
With the IV inserted, they placed a camera on my chest and strapped it to the bed. They assured me the straps were for the camera, not to restrain me. They finally put a squeeze ball on a cord into my right hand which I could use to alert them if I suddenly needed to pee like no one’s business, panic or otherwise pause the procedure.
With these things done, off I went into the tube, and it became extremely clear why the questionnaire you fill in advance out asks if you’re claustrophobic, because once I was in, all I could see was the curving contour of the tube not far above my face, and nothing else. One staffer said most people just close their eyes, which I did.
There is no danger in falling asleep, though, as at regular intervals (which they warned me of when they came up) the machine would clatter, clank and hum like industrial music, loud even through the earplugs and headphones.
When the machine wasn’t revving up to maximum Magnetic Racket Index, I was asked to breath in deep and hold my breath. I was pretty good at this, though it felt like I had to hold my breath for a long time. This left me a bit light-headed by the end, though I didn’t realize it until I tried getting off the bed when it was over. The guy who gave me the IV had to help me sit up.
When it came time for the injection, I was told that some people feel a salty taste in their mouths. I didn’t taste anything, but was asked if I was OK. I said yes. I think I was asked, because I did feel something, but couldn’t really name it. Whatever it was, it made my heart rate jump for a few seconds, hence the inquiry (I suspect). The best I can do to describe it is that for about five seconds, I felt rather weird.
It wrapped up shortly after the dye injection. I got a very nicely-applied translucent bandage over the IV insertion point and told my doctor would get the results in about a week.
Overall, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, but I think I did pretty good at just laying there like a potato while the machine made its noises and did its thing. I would not be sad if I never faced another MRI, though.
The bandage:
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