Things to know about me: I'm vaguely claustrophobic. The idea of spending half an hour in an enclosed tube doesn't exactly give me warm fuzzies. In fact, it's rather a petrifying idea. I was willing to bite the bullet, though, simply because I'm tired of having a nonfunctional shoulder. In fact, this is a really good metric for how much it's bothering me-- is it bad enough to be worth an MRI?
The MRI itself was an exercise in keeping my eyes closed and counting my breaths. Well, that and reminding myself that I could safeword at any time just by squeezing the ball that was in my left hand. Doing that would only prolong the exercise, though, so I kept telling myself that I'd wait just one more minute before I did that. OK, just one more minute. One more minute.
Listening to the patterns of the MRI is sort of trippy and sort of musical, and that kept part of my brain distracted from the "OH MY GOD WE'RE STUCK!" sensation.
I actually did have her pull me out of the tube at one point, but that was because my right hand had gone numb, and not because I couldn't take the tube.
At the end, I asked if I got to see the images. "I can burn a CD for you. I'll do that while you're getting dressed." Goody! Of course, I have no idea how to read an MRI, but I've spent the last hour with images of my shoulder in one window, and a Google search for "shoulder MRI" in the other. I still know nothing, though I think I see some fluid in the joint from certain angles.
Wanna see? Here's the inside of my right shoulder. The left image is a front view, and the right one is a side view.
I decided to spend the evening drinking sake, eating cheese, and making gougeres. Hic!