the MRI scan

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So today I had to go upto Golders Green for an MRI scan of my thoracic and lumbar spine. I got the call yesterday and thought to myself, 'wow, how efficient of UCH - its only been 2 weeks and here I am getting the scan done already'. It was a shitty day today, cold, rainy and dull - but I set off for Golders Green (joking to myself that I'd be able to get a nice challah for tonight), negating the fact that's its fucking miles away.. anyways, I made the train from Denmark Hill at 12.54 and got to St Pancras, to transfer to the tube upto Golders Green. It's only when you have mobility issues that you appreciate the amount of stairs and lack of lifts in our tube system in London. Not even that. KX is brand spanking new station, oh there are lifts, but its like finding the end of the rainbow = impossible. Anyways, I made it upto Golders Green and tried to find a bakery, forgetting that because its Sukkot everything is shut, So I walk for 20 agonizing minutes along Finchley Road to the 999 medical centre for the scan. A large private house converted into a medical scanning and counselling centre. I enter as a very wealthy young female doctor is leaving and shouting back something about her new beamer to some minion on the desk. I enter and say I am a bit early, but that shabbos is coming and I wonder if they can see me a bit early. 'Oh no, the contract states that ...." I zone out. Talk of contracts is the last thing I need. 'Would you like a drink? hot chocolate, tea, coffee" - no, I say, I'll just wait for the scan. 'Actually you wont be seen early and we may even be a bit late', 'ok I say, I'll have a tea then please. 'Actually we've run out of milk'. Fine, whatever. Sorry Mr Phillips, sorry .. I say 'if you are going to call me by title its Dr Phillips, otherwise Peter is just fine'. I can feel their hackles rising ...

I go through to the scan after a long wait. Its pissing down with rain outside and as they asked me not to use pain control today before the scan I'm in considerable pain and its starting to really get to me. I can't get comfortable and the thoughts of the journey home are starting to pre-occupy me. 'Take all your clothes off, put on the gown and wait there'. I do so whilst they discuss the brain tumour of the young woman who went just ahead of me. 'such a shame' I can hear them saying ....
Eventually I go into the machine. 'have you had this before she asks?' yes, but years ago .. classical or pop? (for the earphones), 'classical please' (but she puts pop (rap actually) anyways. How long I ask? 20 minutes tops. Then it begins. Its like being buried alive and listening to them dig your grave whilst you are in the box. Various different noises, but so loud that my wedding ring vibrates. I open my eyes to find the top of the machine is a few centimetres away from my nose. 'Table moving now' comes through into the machine 'what do I do with my hands?' I think. .. I try my best to think of happy times and remember I only have a few minutes to go. The noises change from bang bang bang, to drill drill drill, to ultra quick to very slow, all the loudest thing I ever did hear. Horror, shock. I start to feel like to want to cry and that I want my Mum.

I start to feel a boiling hot sensation under my back. 'is that normal, I wonder but there is no one to ask and no one has prepared me for this. 45 minutes later it stops and she pulls me out 'you can go now'. Thats it? I ask? Yes, your report will be sent to UCH in 2 2weeks. But I'd like a copy, - well thats not possible, our contract is with UCH. But I have rights as a patient, no? 'with UCH but not with us'.
This is private medicine, and this is radiology/radiography. Pathologists have more communication skikls ...

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