Close to a decade ago, I discovered I had an aneurysm. Major freakout followed until the brain surgeon assured me it was so small it would be malpractice to work on it — lots of people have one. However it is necessary to check on it regularly to see that it’s not expanding. This Monday I went in for an MRI.
Getting to the lab turned out surprisingly complicated. Driving up the road alongside the hospital, I passed the entrance that said EMERGENCY PATIENTS — not noticing that underneath it, in much smaller prints, the sign said Outpatients. I tried the next entrance (attempting to interpret my GPS), which turned out to be staff. Tried the one after that, parked, went inside, learned it was the wrong entrance. And because of Covid, I assume, I couldn’t just make my way back to the MRI wing.
So after a little more driving I finally saw the Outpatients notice, went inside and followed a long, windy path back to the machine. I didn’t have to remove my belt, but I felt a strong magnetic pull on it as my head went into the MRI. That was a very freaky sensation; if I ever have to write about what it feels like to be yanked telekinetically, I shall definitely incorporate that feeling.
Happily, the aneurysm is still quiescent. And finding my way out of the building and the parking lot was slightly less frustrating than the journey inward.
#SFWApro. Cover by Jack Kirby, inks by Ditko, all rights remain with current holder.