(This is not me)
I was up at the New Royal Infirmary for an MRI scan today. Way back in February a cardiologist said that they would like to take a closer look at what's going on in there...
I was reflecting, as I made my way along the long carpeted corridors of the nRIE that I may not have been anywhere on holiday for some time but I have been on a long "patient journey". Maybe that would do.
There was a bit of a wait, as apparently the woman who was in before me "had no veins and they couldn't get the cannulla in". I appreciated being told, actually. It made me determined to have veins when it was my turn.
When it was my turn the holiday theme continued. Getting squeezed head first into the plastic tube was a little like going on an aircraft. I had a similar itchy panicky feeling. You really only can see just above your nose a little bit. So I closed my eyes. For 45 minutes a woman told me to "breathe in...breathe out...stop breathing now.........................breathe normally again. From when I held my breath until I started breathing again there would be a succession of space-craft noises. Half way through they injected me with a dye, I guess so they can see how the blood moves through my heart. By the time we were finished I was almost used to it and could have gone for longer.
So anyway - that wasn't a bad experience. I now just have the slight anxiety that they find something outrageous that they weren't looking for. (Or if they found my Helly Hanson running gloves that I lost one day last winter, that would be good. I nearly went crazy looking for them.)
On the way home on my bike I wondered if I had a crash and spilled some blood - what colour would it be?
Meanwhile my yoginjury continues, although it's by far the worst when I get up out of a chair. It really rather likes running, although I think the impact, but not the motion, sets it off a bit afterwards. I'm missing my yoga though.