What comes out, what goes in - a day of (relative) self-discipline

So, if you've never had an MRI, this is what the machine looks like. Or some variation of this, at least.

I had a close encounter with one such a machine this morning. After filling out a number of forms (or at least marking them with question marks where I didn't understand the words) I was invited to get prepared for the test.

First - take off everything metal. Done.

Then - take off everything else, and put on this lovely transparent little hospital gown that almost-but-not-quite closes completely in the back. ... ... ... Done.

Now, after my previous hospital encounters, I have learned not to be terribly shy about these sorts of things. But still, I was a bit put off when I was invited to sit down in the middle of the corridor in my little see-through dress while the nurse put the IV in. Fortunately, the nurse was skilled (or lucky herself) and my fried and feeble veins cooperated on the first try. They started me on liquids right away, though ultimately the IV was for the contrast liquid they would be using in the test. We'll get to that in a minute.

I shivered in the corridor and greeted passers-by while trying to keep all the right parts covered up for about fifteen minutes before they called me into the room and had me lay down on the moving bed. Eyes closed, try not to move. Quieta.

If you are curious, you can watch this video to hear some of the 'beeping' sounds. The clip is 16 seconds long, the test itself lasts at least 30 minutes.

It's annoying, but it doesn't hurt. At least this time they gave me ear-plugs. No big deal, right?About halfway through the test they stopped, had me lay with my head at the opposite end of the bed, and switched the normal liquids for the contrast liquid. I have never had a reaction to contrast liquid before, in the MRI or the CAT scan, but just to keep things interesting, today was different.

The hot flush throughout my entire body was totally expected. Fine. But I did not anticipate the unpleasant sensation that someone had opened a faucet in my mouth (how can one person generate so much saliva???) nor the intense and immediate impulse to vomit everywhere.

I didn't though. Instead I peeked with one eye for the 'emergency' button whose existence I had presumed. I was mistaken - there was no button, and I was stuck in the tube, and the situation was growing increasingly desperate. I found myself thinking how much does this machine cost, and how much damage will it sustain if I puke all over it? (It costs between one and three-million dollars, it turns out, though I wasn't able to find any information about vomit-damage. Ha.)

Tossing my cookies in the machine would always have been highly embarrassing, so I wiggled around a little bit thinking that if I moved perhaps they would pause the test and ask me what was wrong. But...they didn't. I hazarded a few bangs on the inner wall of the tube, and when that didn't yield any results I kicked my legs, which I know they could see. Nothing.

Aaaargh!! I quickly assessed the situation: I couldn't scoot up because there were head supporters blocking me, and it would also have pulled the IV needle out of my arm. I couldn't go down because there really wasn't enough manoeuvring room unless I was prepared to scoot myself right off the table onto the floor, which I concluded would be no less embarrassing than puking. My only option was to lay back down and try to get it under control. Mind over matter. I swallowed. And swallowed. And tried to breathe deeply.

Eventually it passed. I am the boss! I hope I don't have to do that again anytime soon though.

So later in the day, to reward myself for having endured this unpleasantness, I told myself I would eat...meat. It's been cold and rainy here, and I have been craving comfort food. I wanted beef stew. I mean, one little indulgence isn't the end of the world, right? It's not as though I am conflicted over some deep ethical issues. My choice to avoid meat was to support my health, and what is one little steak?

I went to the vegetable section first, and collected all the necessary items before heading to the meat section. Perhaps if they had had pre-cut steaks available, I would have grabbed one and carried out my plan, but to get a steak at the grocery store here you need to actually speak to the butcher. I'm not sure what happened, but I hovered at the counter for several minutes before acknowledging that I wasn't really going to go through with it.

I decided that as a compromise I would buy some beef stock cubes and use those for flavour. But when I got to the soups and stocks aisle, I changed my mind about those as well.

Is it just the fear of appearing hypocritical? I will have to think about it. I hope it has more to do with the belief that I am actually doing my body some good with my food choices, though who really knows. All I know for sure is that I had vegetable soup for dinner.

It was...okay.