Bank holiday Monday and I am up at 7:30 and in the shower as I am off to the hospital for an MRI scan. There is time for coffee, muesli and meds before I get myself in clothes with no meatal and I remove all my jewellery. I try to distract myself with morning TV but it just irritates me so I stare into space for a bit and fill in the medical questionnaire about the history of metal in my body and allergies. I was asked the other day if I had an allergies when I bought a bottle of water at the gym. Firstly why would I buy water if I had an allergy to it and secondly if I had an allergy to water I would be dead given the water content of the average human body. Another mindless arse covering ritual that has crept into the world. Peanuts on aeroplanes I get, water for humans not so much. Any way I drive to the hospital this Bank Holiday Monday to find the car park almost empty (that is a first) and the hospital itself equally bereft of people apart from the odd person outside in a dressing gown having a fag.

Reception for radiology is closed but there is a helpful message directing me to Area C at the end of a corridor. I arrive at the reception at Area C to find no one there so I wandered about as you do in these case and found an unmasked person sitting in waiting area C who reassured me that someone would be out soon. A useful piece of instant volunteering that seemed apt given this is coronation volunteering day. (The WRVS café was closed, that struck me as ironic). A woman appeared and booked me in and then asked me to wait back in area C. I did as I was told until a nurse (hopefully) escorted me to a curtained cubicle and inserted a catheter in my arm, painlessly and disinterestedly, done one done them all I guess when you get cooperative veins like mine.

So I sit waiting with my catheter in my arm looking at the view wondering if I had enough time to read Terry Pratchett’s Reaper Man that I had brought with me. The view was stark and I was beginning to wonder if I had been forgotten.

At last I was called in to the MRI suite. My bag, coat and hat all went into a metal locker before I entered the metal free area of the machine. Again ironically the key for my locker was metal so had to stay to one side out of my possession. Not a full proof security method but Hey Ho onwards. I was invited to lay down on the flat bed of the scanner and a contraption put over my pelvic region. My catheter was connected up to an automated pump that would at times inject contrast fluid into me. In my left hand was placed a panic bulb and told to squeeze it if it all got too much and then I was slid into the machine with a cheery “we will see you in about 40 minutes”. I always respond the same to these tubular environments and that is to regard it as a time for breathing exercises. I forgot to mention that before inserting me into the machine they put ear phones on me to block out some of the noise. So here I am trying to relax and focus on my breathing when the process starts. The science is fascinating the high voltage surges through the powerful magnetic field creates sounds, the typical banging and chattering that an MRI produces. Its like attending a very bad avant garde music concert. Here is an example.

So after about 40 minutes with only one half time announcement that told me the next one “is quite noisy”, I was slide from the machine with my ears ringing and feeling slightly disorientated. I was shown to the locker, retrieved my things and told I could go as soon as I was ready, then left alone. I wandered out and found my way to the front entry of the hospital where I thought that after a piss I would sit in the café and have a nice coffee and a bun. As I mentioned before the volunteer run café was not open so I resorted to a bag of liquorice all sorts and a bottle of water. No one asked me if I had any allergies! I drove home, made coffee and sat down to draft the blog to find my lap top had a “bootmgr image corrupt” and would not boot. I dragged out my computer box from the garage and retrieved my start up USB and then played for a while to get my machine straight. I succeeded and finally got to start the daft blog, but whilst doing so I notice an Amazon man come half way up the path and then turn round and go away. Almost immediately I get a notification with a picture of my package left at a front door that certainly is not mine. I check my front door and porch and my Amazon cupboard is bare. Time for a quick feedback burst, and then I wonder if I will ever see my book. At this point my nose runs and I head for the Actifed. Clearly this is going to be one of those days! Its likely that from now on, for the rest of the day, anything I try to do will turn to rat shit. As it turns out the evening arrives and I watch football followed by Bill and Teds Bogus Journey. By the time that’s over all that is left is an adjustment to the Tesco order, taking my night meds and trying to get some sleep.