I went for another MRI this week, and this time, I made sure I was scheduled for an “open MRI.” Seriously, there was no way I was going to go through that again if I didn’t have to. This MRI was at a different location, I showed up 15 minutes early, and they took me in right away. Great! In early, out early, right?
In walks Boris. A normal looking guy with a short clipped beard, eyeglasses, and a very strong Russian accent. He called me “ma’am” or “Mrs.” and did his best to keep me informed about what was going to happen with the MRI. Ok. I was just praying that this trip through “the machine” weren’t going to shock me into submission.
Hint to anyone that has to schedule an MRI. If you are at all claustrophobic, book an Open MRI. Woohoo! That was a much better experience. However, if Boris is your technician, you will not understand one word that he says over the microphone. “OK ….. blah blah blah blah blah. Ok.” I finally gave up. Between his accent and the crappy microphone he was using, I figured if he really needed to tell me something and I didn’t answer him, he would come in and check to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep or passed out.
At the end of the procedure, which, by the way, took almost 3 hours instead of the usual 1 to 1.5 hours, Boris told me, “Mrs., I took beauuuuutiiifulllll pictures of your spine.” He then proceeded to either tell me what a great doctor I had, and how nice and thorough he is, or that my Dr. is a great poker player. I’m really not sure about half of the stuff he told me. But seriously? Boris made me laugh, and the Open MRI is my new friend.