Well, that’s that done.

Anther little milepost, or fence jumped or ditch leaped or whatever you’re having yourself on my rocky road to perdition.

I set the alarm for six which would give me a chance to wake up before hitting the road. Naturally my body played its old trick of forestalling the alarm and I woke at five. I don’t know why I bothered to go to bed at all.

Anyways I arrived at the hospital and that was fine. I found the place and was told to wait. So I waited. They then told me to take off all my clothes and wait again. So I waited.

Last night I remembered a form they had sent me with a whole list of things to be careful of. Apparently it’s not a clever idea to have an MRI if you have a screw-on leg or use an iron lung or have ear piercings. I ticked all their boxes and signed the form. This morning the nurse asked about the form so I gleefully produced it. That’s great says she, and she then proceeded to ask me all the questions again. *sigh*.

So they brought me in and introduced me to The Beast. So I lay back on the very hard table while they stuck a cannula in my arm [shades of Death Row here?]. They slapped a pair of headphones on me and then closed my head in a cage. They got to work.

I always thought the machine made a loud clanking noise as it does its business. Not this machine. My yoke went through a vast repertoire of bangs, squeaks, rumble and clicks intersperced with silences. I did what I normally do in these situations. I switched off. Herself hates it when I do this as I’m oblivious to the world in my shut off state. So that’s where I went during the scan and I was only vaguely aware of the racket around me.

Eventually a nurse poked me in the arm and I rejoined the real world. It was all over. I could get dressed. I could go home.

So I did.

Now I’m utterly fucked, both mentally and physically.

I have noticed something strange though.

Every time I stop moving I seem to automatically turn to point to the North.

Weird?