Today, I experienced one of the 492 perks of my job in Radiology. Whenever we buy a new piece of imaging equipment, Imaging staff and radiologists get to be guinea pigs so the technologists can train on the applications. They solicit people with ailments so they can test their new toys. This time, it was MRI and I was approached last week to see which test I wanted to try. Not IF I wanted to try one, but WHICH ONE I wanted to try.
Being the eternal masochist that I am, I picked a brain MRA/MRI. I was the first person to have a brain MRA in the hospital and our healthcare system. Heck, why not.
Have you seen the movie "Gravity" yet? You will not be disappointed. The cinematography was awesome; you actually feel dizzy when you see the bottom side of the earth from space. Anyway, there are multiple scenes where people [Sandra Bullock and George Clooney] are floating around space in the constricting space suits. You almost want to hyperventilate watching the movie, knowing you shouldn't breathe in space.
I wore a space suit today. In MRI. On a Wednesday. At 3 p.m. The team leader called my office and said "Table for 1, no waiting." After giggling at that and doning the biggest metal necklace I could find, I entered the MRI department (the suite, not the scan room itself). The metal necklace was a joke, of course (you can't take metal anywhere near the magnet), and I wanted to make the techs laugh.
For a brain MRI, you lay on the table and rest your head in the head coil (it's like a little plastic vice that holds your head still). Then they close the coil over your head, so you have a small window of vision the size of a visor. Then they put the headphones on you so you can listen to whatever radio station you want. Then they wrap you in blankets so that you stay warm in the 58 degree room. Then, mummified in a space suit, they raise up the table and into the bore/tube you go.
It was then that I realized why 90% of brain scan patients require valium as a pre-treatment to relax. It's a tight fit. I promised myself that I WOULD make it through this scan. Very few people can make it thorugh 30 minutes as a mummy, in a small casket-like tube, with loud sequencing sounds bouncing through your head. At one point, my head became hot. I don't want to insult your intelligence but magnetic resonance imaging "works" by bouncing radiofrequency (RF) waves back and forth between the magnet. The RF waves cut through you. I swore I could feel them. And my head did get physically warm [that is when you picture your head exploding in a gory mess and the CSI people have to come to investigate your untimely death]. I also experienced head-rocking waves of RF that physically moved my head millimeters at a time. 3 Tesla is a very powerful magnet.
So I am encased in the MRI tube, possibly enshrined forever [Seriously, your head does some funky stuff when you know you physically can't get out of the restraints you're in. I get the whole Valium thing now.]. Classic rock is piping through the earbuds and I try to picture myself on the beach. It's warm, loud, and I challenge myself to keep my eyes closed the entire time so I don't freak out. It's EXTREMELY hard to keep your eyes closed for 30 minutes when you're nervous and mummified.
But I had no choice...I had some serious props to earn with the MRI staff. They cannot handle being in the bore for brain MRI/MRA. Claustrophobia is a very real illness. Once I figured out that I would truly be encased in my classic rock-wired space suit, I knew there was no going back. Turns out that I earned some great respect from not only the MRI technologists but also a few of the radiologists. They tried out GE's new silent brain scan technology on me and a whole gaggle of radiologists reported to the control room to watch my scan.
Good thing I grabbed my pink sequined slippers for the exam. Seriously. Picture me, encased in my space suit, covered in blankets (in scrubs), and so far into the tube that all you could see of me was from my knees down. And my fancy sequined pink slippers, peeking out from under my blankets. I'm sure there are pictures of that gracing the social media sites. It's not technically a HIPAA violation (LOL).
So once my heart rate slowed and I calmed myseff down, I actually relaxed in the scanner. I dozed for a while. I debated dinner options. I said one very slow "Our Father." I listened to the words of Steve Miller Band's "Joker" and caught myself wiggling my feet to the beat of the music when Journey's "Separate Ways" came on. Which was followed by about 9 people laughing at me over the intercom.
But I did it. 28 minutes and I did not open my eyes. Talk about self control (that I didn't think I had).
After the scan, I looked at my images and it was creepy. CREEPY. To see the ridges in my brain, my vasculature, and the backs of my eyes. I could even tell I had contacts in. In one very surreal black and white 3D front-on image of my whole head, I could see the fusions of my skull and then the blood vessels under my scalp. That was eerie, as I was looking at myself and could see THROUGH myself. I tend to feel somewhat invincible but when you see your own skull as though you're looking in a mirror, it's unsettling. I also kept thinking, "Is my nose really that big?"
One of the techs chided me about having 8 dental fillings and tiny flecks of metal in my eye shadow. There are no secrets in my head now and not surprisingly, I am very relieved that I have a normal brain anatomy and physiology. Ever since my bout of vertigo, I sort of wondered if I had something brewing. Guess not. It's just stress.
So I put my suit back on and headed to my office. On the way, I ran into my interventionalist. He asked me what I was up to and I mentioned that I just had a diagnostic brain MRA/MRI in the new 3T.
His response was, "you did that for fun!? You need to get out more!"
Touche. But at least I survived my first brain scan without requiring Valium!
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