This morning, I headed to St Vincent’s Hospital for my spinal MRI. To have an MRI you have to answer a long questionnaire to ensure that you have nothing metal in your body that is going to force its way out of you when they stick you in the machine. I can imagine there is nothing more unpleasant than your pacemaker being ripped out of your chest.
I was then instructed to get changed into one of those lovely hospital gown with the opening down to back which look highly unflattering. Then I was taken into the room containing the MRI machine, which was absolutely freezing cold, laid down on the table and had my head put in a plastic bracket to hold it in place. I was given a buzzer to squeeze if I needed help and a set of earplugs, and was then slid into the machine.
Being in the machine was the perfect test for claustrophobia as the ceiling of the MRI was about 15cm away from my nose. Also the damn thing is so loud when it is scanning you. It felt like I was trapped in a plastic tube at a really bad dance party.
After 30 minutes of having to stay perfectly still, I was pulled out of the machine and sent on my way. Whilst it wasn’t a painful procedure, it wasn’t the way I wanted to spend my Sunday morning.