MRI Dreams

When I was younger, I remember seeing a picture of an old woodcut image where a person was beset with joint pain. In this woodcut, the pain is caused by tiny demons poking little pitchforks into him. They sure had wild imaginations five hundred years ago.

I was thinking of this, as the Tech got me set on the little bed. She put earplugs in my ears, clamped my bad shoulder in some odd plastic cage.
Slowly, the narrow bed I am on is pushed into the hole of the machine. My arms scrap against the sides a little, so I pull my arms in. There are two little light strips above my forehead, an inch above my forehead.
I can’t move. My arms are tight against my sides. I would be okay, but thanks to a surgery on my left arm ten years ago, my ulnar nerve is on the side. The pressure on my left arm is causing it to hurt and my left hand is starting to go numb.

So as I am lying there in the metal doughnut, listening to the growl and bang of the MRI machine, wondering what the Tech sees on her screen. Then the old woodcut comes to mind.
It sure would be amusing if she rolled me out of the coffin like structure and said. “Yes, Mr. Hogg. If you look at the screen, you can see little demons here, here and here. They are what is causing the pain in your shoulder. ” She indicates grey little blobs holding pitchforks. “Now the good news is that there are only three and they are weak demons.” She picks up a scalpel and a stainless steel pan. “We can tell that it’s a simple matter of your humors being out of balance.” She swabs my arm with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. “A little bloodletting will get you humors back in balance.” The scalpel doesn’t hurt as much as my shoulder joint.

After a half hour in the steel doughnut, the banging, growling and grinding noises stop. “All done.” The voice says from the speakers. I feel the bed move. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I blurt out through clenched teeth. My right hand is clenched tight and there are small tears coming out of the corner of my eyes. The pain in my left arm is killing me.
“You can sit up.”
I do and start to massage my left arm.
“Are you okay?”
“My arm is killing me. It was tight in there.”
“I thought so. You were shaking in there.”
I shook my arm and could feel the pins and needles as the blood returned to my arm.

“Your doctor will schedule an appointment within a week, to go over the results.”

As I drive home, I wonder how many little demons showed up on the MRI and if there is damage.