Fifty long minutes. That's how long I spent on a table underneath a big clanging machine yesterday when I had the pleasure of having an MRI done on my lower back. I can relate that the experience was not the most thrilling of my life. Even though I wasn't subjected to the old tube-type machine (they gave me a choice. Does anyone actually ENJOY the other machine?), I was still not lying in a plush bed.

For anyone who has had one of these tests, you know the feeling. Lying underneath a large circular machine that makes vibrating/clanging noises in a sterile room with a technician on the other side of the glasses watching the screen and you. On this particular day, I had the pleasure of having the test done with and without contrast. This meant that halfway through, the technician came back into the room and injected what seemed like a big-gulp full of liquid (apparently my kharmic pay-back for too many buffalo wings since I was told it was based upon weight) into my vein so I would glow like a halogen bulb in the pictures.

As I lay under the large machine I had the option of looking straight up or side to side. You are told to lie perfectly still (no itching, shallow breathing and all) so any head movement has to be done slowly. At first I looked straight up, but my view was of the bottom of the machine 3 inches in front of my eyes. The effects this had were to a. blur my focus and make my head spin and b. cause me to ruminate about what it would be like in a coffin, which given the circumstances was not a pleasant thought.

After several minutes of anxious breathing I turned my head to the left. There was the technician on the other side of the glass examining my insides on the screen and glancing up at me. It suddenly occurred to me the cold rush of fear that would flood through me if I saw her suddenly gasp in horror. No, this wouldn't do. I had no choice to turn my head slowly to the right and stare into the cabinet full of supplies that was gaping open and towering over me which, let's face it, was just bad feng shui.

I suffered through this position for the next 20 minutes or so. My hands both fell asleep and felt like they would never move again. The relief I felt when the technician came in and I was able to move for a minute and allow the blood to rush back into my hands was short lived when I saw the need and big gulp in his hand. I don't have a problem at all with needles or shots mind you. However, I am a bit freaked out by anything foreign coursing through my veins.

The technician placed the need into my arm and began pushing the plunger. The liquid emptied into my arm and I began to feel a pain in my bicep. Apparently, I was lucky enough to have had the needle go through my vein and some of the liquid seeped in my muscled which swelled and hurt for the remainder of the 25 minutes that I spent under the magnet silo.

The rest of the test proceeded without incident although I realized that the worst part of this whole experience was not the claustrophobia or the pain in my arm. It wasn't lying still for 50 minutes or even having that suspicious liquid linger somewhere in my body. For me the final straw was when the radio which had been turned to high decibel levels to drown out the machine began playing Celine Dion. This was too much. No human being should be expected to live under these circumstances. The fact that Celine was quickly followed by "Proud to Be an American" and something by Travis Tritt about hoping that you will know someday what it's like to live like your dying was just adding insult to injury.

If my technicians happen to be out there reading this post today, I thank you for the care you showed in handling me and my test. But your humanity quickly proved to be false when you forced me to listen to the best hits of the 80's, the 90's...and today.