Thursday, October 10, 2013

Dye in my veins

OK, they call it contrast but it’s an iodine dye of some sort.

Been so looking forward to this for a couple of weeks, but in reality it went very well.

They stick a needle in your arm, make you get into one of those stylish gowns (they let me keep my socks on! What a picture!) which I could not tie in the back so I needed some help. Have you ever tried to tie your shoes behind your back?

Finally you lie down on a hard table with a miniscule pillow under your head. Then every few minutes they tell you not to breathe while this contraption moves around above you.

Before the procedure they give you papers to read that basically say all medical procedures carry some risk. In a worst-case scenario, you could have a severe reaction to the “contrast” and you might die. Die from the dye – that is almost funny! Except it’s not. The radiology tech said she wished they didn’t give those things to patients right before procedures because it scares people. Uh, I might not get up from this table if I just happen to be one of those people who reacts to iodine based dyes? But since I’ve never had one of them before, how could I possibly know?

Not much to do while laying on the table and waiting except to look at the clock on the wall or the Cyclops-like thing hanging over me.

Mick Jagger sang it: “What a drag it is getting old …”

Songs always come to mind when I’m just thinking and Rodney Crowell’s lyrics to “I’m a mess” also popped into my head:
When I woke up, they'd strapped me in an MRI. (it was a scan)
Black dye in my veins, head Velcroed down (die was colorless - no Velcro)
Foam happy slippers and a blue paper grown (no slippers and not paper)
The banging went on for an hour or more. (clanking maybe)
Then they slipped me out like a boat onto shore. (scan plates were moved)

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