It's fall again: booby season. I was scheduled for an MRI tonight, a mammogram tomorrow and a date with the Dutchman (sigh) next week. Truly, the titty trifecta. But, it was not to be.
The BFF and I arrived on time, I blazed through the paperwork, kitted myself out in this season's most glamourous hospital gowns (one backwards, one forwards), and followed my technician escort into the inner sanctum. Usually, that means it's time for installation of an IV, and a memory test about the forms I've just completed, before being loaded into the tube.
Tonight, it was different. Once inside, my technician retreated for a tete-a-tete with his colleague, and returned with the news that the coil for the larger of their two MRI machines was on loan to Toronto General, across the street. The smaller machine's bore apparently isn't large enough to accommodate the full extent of my voluptuousness, so I was rescheduled and sent packing. No claustrophobia, no Ativan, no nothing. Annoying. Frustrating. Embarrassing.
Round two in a couple of weeks. Watch this space.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment