MRI scan yesterday, which turns out to be in a large lorry trailer in a council car park. I am not at all fazed by this, knowing in advance that the procedure is very noisy, a bit claustrophobic, safe and painless. I've been down mines and along narrow galleries extending out half a mile under the sea. I've been in the tunnels under Naples and walked through ones that are only wide enough to move sideways for over 100m in near darkness, so I wasn't expecting claustrophobia to be a problem. My confidence turned out to be misplaced.
On arrival, I hand in a questionnaire and am then shown into the room with the gizmo. The central hole looks a lot smaller than the ones in hospitals I've seen online (it is a lot smaller). The radiographer then gives me the first of two verbal interactions.
Radiographer: Please lie down with your legs here. Hold this panic button in your right hand.
This was my sole briefing on what was to happen next. While I wonder why I would need a panic button, before I can ask, some very uncomfortable ear defenders are placed on my head and I'm immediately borne inside. I find myself lying in the narrowest of tubes. The top is 2 to 3 inches from my face and I am unable to see anything bar the white plastic immediately above my eyes. It is incredibly stuffy as there seems to be no air movement. This is not helped by me wearing a mask as per instructions. It is so narrow that I cannot lie with both arms by my sides, one is stuck up the side of the tube with my shoulder scrunched up.
None of this is intolerable, it's just a bit of discomfort. I wait to see what happens next. Well, nothing for what seems to be an eternity but is probably less than a minute.
Robot voice: The next scan will last 30 seconds.
Next? Did I miss the first one? An almighty din breaks out. 30 seconds later it stops. Well, that was ok, I think, no trouble at all. Why am I not being wheeled out again? While I'm wondering:
Robot voice: The next scan will last 3 minutes.
Ah! Not just 30 seconds then. 3 minutes of aural assault follows that slowly becomes incredibly disorientating. Towards the end, I become conscious that I'm starting to show signs of hyperventilation. Oh Oh. I'm practised in relaxing breathing exercises to control heart rates, albeit I haven't had to use them for years, and the almighty din is not conducive to calm but I stop the sense of panic. The three minutes ends and I can relax. Why am I not being wheeled out?
Robot voice: The next scan will last 5 minutes.
Oh god. I nervously hold the panic button, aptly named for how I am now feeling. Two minutes more of this and it is all I can do not to scream and claw my way out. Why didn't I know at 64 that I'm claustrophobic? The only thing that is keeping me from not pressing the panic button is the thought that I don't want to have to go through this again. I slowy get control back but my breathing is all over the shop and I feel very odd.
Robot voice: The next scan will last 4 minutes
Rinse and repeat. This process continued for a total of about 20 minutes. I had no idea when it would end but end it did and out my trolley came.
Radiographer: Your referrer will get the results in 7 to 10 days. End of second verbal interaction.
I am too shattered to say anything. I half fall off the couch but this goes unnoticed and I almost stagger into the car park. A twenty minute walk later and my surreal phobia discovery starts to fade.
Now in the overall scheme of things medical, this is all quite trivial; just that my earlier confidence that I would be ok turned out to be completely misplaced. Yes, the people skills of the staff weren't great but I was just grateful that from referral to scan was only four weeks. In the current climate, that's very good. I only hope I don't have to do another one.
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