For me, one difficult aspect of the MRI scan experience was the struggle to keep both my body and my mind ‘perfectly, perfectly still’ for the images. If I am honest, it was barely tolerable. One twitch too many and the messed up scans would have to be repeated. I didn’t want to be stuck in a loop of MRI sessions, forever. Thankfully, I somehow got through them all, one by one!
Now I wish I had asked beforehand for more detailed information about exactly what to think about, so that I could remain as calm as possible. Maybe I could have memorised an actual, tried-and-tested script or something? I suppose this is where prayers or poetry or nursery rhymes come in - though there seem to be advantages and disadvantages to all of them. During the scans, I did a bit of experimentation with the whole lot. Time went very, very slowly so I got through masses of material. In the end, I found counting out the seconds of every minute the most effective. One elephant for every second.
Previous experience of meditation would have been useful, I think. Because so far the closest I have got to meditating is a mindfulness app that encouraged a lot of gentle but constant movement from head to toe. (Which would be a pretty bad idea in an MRI scanner, obviously.)
Earlier I had proudly opted out of accepting what would have been my first dose of a sedative, as I wanted to save that ‘treat’ for even more difficult times ahead. Instead a small inflatable ball on a wire was given to me to squeeze in case of a panic attack or pain. My left hand ‘froze’ into a (loose) grip around it for the entire session. Apparently, very few people ever squeeze the ball, which surprised me. The pressure was definitely on, to be brave and to maintain an impressively lifeless hand.
Lying on the ‘table’ with each breast put through a metal square and my face through a cushioned circle felt really strange. But the staff were so kind. In the pauses between scans I was especially grateful to hear the MRI operator’s voice coming through the ear defenders, checking if I was okay. At other times, music on the radio via the ear defenders had helped to drown out some of the MRI machine’s peculiar hammering and clicking. And there was a lovely final highlight, when three other cheery yet familiar voices reached my ears: The Bee Gee brothers, singing ‘Stayin’ Alive’. Ah, I’ve never been so pleased to hear them. At least when they sang the words: “You’re stayin’ alive, you’re stayin’ alive”. That was so encouraging! Of course I politely ignored the “Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me, yeah” part. Because one thing I am starting to realise is that in an MRI scan, it’s important to keep things simple: with positive messages only. And lots and lots of elephants.
