Being inside a Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine is like being next to someone using a jackhammer while standing in front of an amplifier at a rock concert.
And somehow it is oddly soothing.
It’s been a long time since anyone has accused me of being an athlete. Yet, inside the MRI machine is where I found myself Thursday afternoon as a result of a weightlifting mishap last November.
I knew immediately then that I had done some damage, but as my wife likes to say, I counted on my magical thinking that it would heal over time.
Are you hurt or are you injured?
I’m sure that question was asked long before it was popularized in the 1993 football movie The Program, when James Caan’s character asks Omar Epps just that after he’s flattened with a vicious hit.
Over the years I would say I have ignored some real problems with the hopes they would eventually go away, but as I advance in age, I’m thinking that’s probably not the right road to go down anymore.
So after an X-ray didn’t clearly show the issue I was having with my shoulder, off to the MRI machine I went. While the reason for the MRI isn’t the greatest and I’ll be happy if I never have to go through it again, it was a decent experience.
I was a little worried about it going in because at the very bottom, the patient history form had a question about whether I had ever been diagnosed with clinical claustrophia.
I have never been diagnosed with that particular affliction, but that is a reason I will try to create some space for myself at games I cover. If you see me moving after you sit next to me at a game, please don’t take it personally.
You lie down on what equates to a doctor’s office table. Once you’re strapped down in a particular position, you get settled in for 45 minutes in what looks like a subway tunnel, however only a foot from your face with even less room on the sides.
There is little noise at first until the jackhammer starts with the thump of the bass drum next. Throw in a imploding building or two and that’s close to what it sounded and felt like.
I wished it had lasted longer.
After a trying and tiring week, I drifted in and out of sleep, becoming more conscious when the cacophony of noise subsided periodically.
We’ll see what the test reveals, but I’m still hoping for the magic.