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Country Talk Discussion Board

A MRI ....


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Posted by Fern(Mi) on October 14, 2004 at 18:45:32 from (205.188.116.71):

.....was a breeze. Sort of! Early up, bathing, being lovingly abused by my cyber family. Then miss dressed in one of Frieda’s flannel night gowns because I lacked either a set of sweats or jogging outfit fitted to stay upon the body with elastic. Well regardless, once I was readied, I was on my way. Taking a short cut, I figured I could make up the time I started out late. Some drive. Getting here, I had been driving 55mph with traffic in a 35mph zones posted at 45mph, making all the lights over an eighteen mile distance save one. Unbelieving I managed to find myself within a moments wink of where I had wanted to be. Having but two minutes to be on time, I wheeled into a Walgreen Drug Store parking lot. There I was to have a lovely young lady point out the building I wanted, that was within sight but one block further down the same street.
I must admit, I had possibly stopped for two reasons. The first being I could not admittedly read the passing signs at the speeds I had been traveling. Stopping I logically figured it would save me some unnecessary backtracking. Logic? There is a reason I had not counted on!. Regardless, for reality’s second reason I simply stopped, for it must had been my feminine side haven worn my wife’s night gown.
Walking in the door on time I was shown a reasonable mountain of forms to fill out. Did I know myself? Was I responsible? Could I count the number of wives I had at the present time? And, who might have been my closest relative? If this weren’t enough questions to guess at when my specks were at home without me, the question of my phone number must have come-up a near dozen times. When it was decided I needed help I was given a choice of chairs. An attractive lady sitting only a couple steps away I joined her bending as I usually do to seat myself beside her. Trying to open a line of dialog she got up and left. I might have felt slighted if it had not been for her daughter coming out and the both of them leaving together. For a moment I had thought it might have been that ode-to-moo I have become accustomed to wearing. But, then there where a few straws stuck to the soles of my boots when I had walked in. Odd how when a body enters a city’s limits boot scrapers are short in supply or us?.
Moments later I was called into this medical(?) facilities working inter-sanctum and shown to a dressing room. Dressing room? This sounded entirely strange to me as I was asked to undress. Well almost. I could keep my shoes and pants. The wife’s night gown was alright as I didn’t see one single raised eyebrow. But, I had to empty my pockets. And, provided with a keyed locker.
A young man coming by moments later lead me to a large room, there in centered a very large looking hamburger bun what had had the crust cut off. A couple more steps, my locker key surrendered, I was asked to lay
Upon a bench pointed at the large open mouthed machine I was expected to relax in for near an hour motionless. Pillows, under head and knees. A Chistera' like device was slipped over my right shoulder. The carcass set, my mind encouraged to hold it all still I was shoved into the MRI (hamburger bun looking) machine, on what imaginatively resembled a spatula. I was beginning to feel like a piece of meat wondering if I would be served with a sweet midgy’s or a hopefully dilly of a large pickle resembling another side of my more private personality. But alas, my fantasy was replaced with delving into the mysteries between light and shadow in seeing the present visual shape of the stigmatism in the right eye. Lying there listening to the distanced voice suggesting, “Five minutes more.” I let the shinny white environment a couple inches from my nose play its light games inside my eye. Dependant upon the amount of light I let in, whether I was closing or opening the eye lid; I saw this day’s present size and shape in old ladies stouter purple. I visioned bursts of crystals splaying white lights turning red and icy-blue, and for more variety exploding novas bloomed freely in my mind’s eyes.
Ear plugs did little to mute the horrendous sounds emanating from with in that pair of buns. Constant was the melodious sound of a Chebby I once owned, the engine most peculiare yet efficient serving my family for some 200thousands of miles giving off with an occasional cough and backfire from the very day it was new. The kids had lovenly called that family used and aged suburban, “Chug-A-Boom!” Mr. Goodwrench’s predecessor had never been able to fix it.
And, again, every few minutes came again the little far away voice, my only just making out some of it, it’s verbalizing an old song I tried to remember, “Just five minutes, give me five minutes more, only five minutes more of your time!” Then there where the other sounds.
Over and over, starting a new again with each distance voiced announcement the same. The engine sound drowned out by a rat a rat tapping, easy at first, loudening with each repeated rounding my head with the sounds the likes of varied air hammers, an air chisel removing my muffler. I worried about this one! And, a jack hammer on Sunday morning to fix a Winter’s frozen water main out front the city home. Thus, this was most of my morning! Upon departure, hopefully having saved face following this clinic’s dress code instructions, I opted to go straight home. Any other stops in this garb was totally out of the question where ever certain unanswerable questions may be unreasonably asked with reasonable answers accepted.
A stop for coffee was a near mistake, if it weren’t for the folks at the cross roads knowing I’m usually up to mischievous and odd behavior from time to time anyway.
A bit later I was pulling genuine junk out from aside an old granary up the barn’s hill. After lunch it was back to logging out a tree that had grown up inside the Jeep 3000 truck that had only happened to have been parked there for two weeks. Which two weeks it had been none of us could remember. The tree thought was almost a whole foot through, including this years protesting bark! Getting the tree cut out of that old truck, that Jeep had openly turned into genuine junk.
Lastly it was the chores and home free for a heavily overcast day that had busily made my bones weary. While it rained early the humidity hung heavy in the air all day keeping everything wet to the touch but still an outside working day regardless.
Fernan


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