It was scary when my ear doctor prescribed an MRI “to rule out an acoustic neuroma.” I know someone who had one of those tumors, and the results of the surgery are worse than the protracted operation, because after you heal, you are decidedly less perfect, and are annoyed forever.
Not to mention that I usually don’t allow any procedures on my person, period, and until that moment, that included an MRI.
The doctor wanted it done in a particular office that of course was a huge deal to get to, and then I had to wait for more than an hour--which was actually when the nice part started.
I went around the corner to a cute little restaurant with white tablecloths, and had a small fancy pizza and a half a glass of chianti. I’m a lousy drinker so I got back to the radiologist’s office in a pretty good mood.
They’d said my time in the tube would be 45 minutes to an hour, and no, I couldn’t play music or invite friends to hold my hand. They also said that most people got claustrophobic.
The MRI turned out to be a lovely experience. The room was cool because of the machine, so the Ukrainian doctor put a blanket over me. I like blankets. He also gave me earplugs. I was slid smoothly into the chamber, and then offered--a percussion concert!
I enjoy percussion. I recently reviewed “The Conjurer,” a percussion concerto by John Corigliano, at the New York Philharmonic. (Google my name at classicalvoiceamerica.org, and find a link to the concerto there as well.)
Now here, for my purposes, was another opportunity to consider differences in timbre, volume, speed and rhythm. I sank into the sounds, and suddenly–too soon--I was slid out again, and the radiologist took away my plugs and my brankie. Hey, I was just getting into this. It had taken only 20 minutes, he said, because I lay so still, so the images were clear. (It’s also a good length for a concerto.)
Ahem. I recommend this procedure to anyone interested in percussion. Some may not find this attitude normal, but my brain results were just fine. So I’ve got evidence.