Dear World – MRI Scan

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Dear World.

Recently, I had to revisit the hospital, and this time, as an outpatient. The reason? To have an MRI (or Magnetic Resonance Imaging) scan of my noggin to see if I had any form of epilepsy or something else.

It was a bizarre experience, where I was stationary for approximately half an hour as a massive magnet circled my head, as if my head was the sun and said magnet was Earth. Do I seem egotistical by describing my head as the Sun? Probably.

That said, it was my first time having any sort of scan. I’ve never really needed any sort of scan of my person for any reason. That said, I thoroughly advise any of you to have one done.

A possible shade of confusion has emerged on your face, I assume. Allow me me make like the Roman Empire in its hay day and expand.

Back in the day, when Wicid was just launched and Defaid was just the Welsh word for sheep, I studied Physics in A Levels with hilarious consequences. One module that was thrust upon the merry clan of nine Physics students was medical physics. You know, the type of physics that makes diagnosing an ailment in a patient that bit easier due to the ability of scans seeing inside the human body. During this time, I learned (and, as of the date of this article being published, forgot a decent chunk) about how different scans worked and the like.

Two years later, I was told I needed one of the scans. I was (oddly) rather excited knowing that I would need to have my Hydrogen atoms inside my head aligned so they could take a digital image of my brain. That’s not something you have done to you every day. Well, unless you’re one of the lucky ones that have bought two magnets, placed one on the floor and one on the ceiling, and stands in between the two every day. If so, you’re definitely living life to the full.

“But why do you encourage others to have the MRI scan done?” I hear you cry. All in good time, my possible friend. All in good time.

As I waited for my name to be called out, I was beginning to be nervous. Well, could you blame me? I had never had the need to have my person scanned for anything. Not even for an aeroplane flight or whatnot.

My name was called, I walked into a room and the nurse asked me questions like have I had an MRI scan before and if I had metal in me somehow, because it would not be a good idea to be lying in between a strong magnet if I had some sort of metal shards in my body somehow.

I was the told to lie on the table, a table that I’ve seen many time before in my physics lessons. After I was given earplugs for the loudness that I was about to endure and lying on the table, a cage was placed over my head with a little mirror on it so I can see out. With a button in hand if I needed to urgently stop the scan for whatever reason, the scan began.

And my, I was in for a shock.

From the descriptions that the nurse had stated, I was expecting that it would be unbearable banging noises, like if you stripped the guitars and vocals away from Slayer’s Raining Blood and leaving just the drum track at an extremely loud volume.

But no. The scan began with a harmony of vibration, like a choir welcoming me to the show, each note higher in pitch than the last. And then it stopped suddenly. And I was welcomed to what seemed at first as a late eighties pop song. The sounds were extraordinary. No intense banging, but a rather quick pop-rock song. I had to stop myself from air drumming for the whole half an hour.

I don’t know if it is my insane mind that made me think that those sounds were extraordinary, but it was weirdly one of my favourite experiences that I’ve ever had in a hospital. If that is even possible, due to the nature of hospitals.

So yeah, if you ever have to experience an MRI scan, think happy thoughts and listen to the faced-pace music that will be emitted from the machine.

Happy days, my friend. Happy days.

I thank ye, world.

Other Dear World Articles:

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Facebook’s NSPCC Campaign
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X Factor And The Christmas Number One
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