VERSE ABOUT MY MRI SCAN THIS MORNING...

MRI Scan Of My Left Wrist

I was instructed to lie on my front,

A pillow supported my shins;

My left arm stretched above my head,

Like Superman, for my sins…

I was uncomfortable to begin with,

My right arm supported my chin,

As it also grasped my left upper arm

In an attempt to gather it in.

I was handed a blue foamy cushion,

Which I tucked beneath my bent right arm

But comfort remained inadequate,

As my left wrist and hand came to harm.

They were clamped inside a sandwich toaster, surely?

But the filling was simply too thick;

My skin was pinched, my wrist in a vice

And fitting it inside became quite a trick.

Once positioned, I was then manoeuvred

Into the magnetic tube, which nudged ‘gainst my head;

I was told not to move and my joints took the strain

On this obscure parody of a bed.

The electronic noises soon took effect,

As scans of an arthritic wrist were taken;

But for forty minutes, I lay there aching,

Any semblance of dignity forsaken.

My wrist was clamped tight, 

My whole left arm was in pain;

My right arm was tensed and aching,

My neck was askew and strained…

I wanted to stop it,

I wanted to scream;

It was all so unpleasant, 

It was like a bad dream…

My mum had been stubborn

And so I gritted my teeth;

I stuck it out, bore the agony,

Chin digging into foam beneath.

Finally, I was relieved, however

And my stiffened joints I could move;

The aching remained as grim though,

As my extremity was unclamped and removed…

Surely a tunnel could be fashioned, I thought,

One could sit alongside in a chair?

And retain some comfort, relax a little,

Or doesn't anyone really care?

My Superman arm had been into that tube,

My wrist and my hand clasped closely;

But what came out was quite inedible:

An undercooked, white, fleshy toastie…

Pete Ray

October 17th, 2016

MRI scan on my left wrist, to ascertain how bad the rheumatoid arthritis has got. 

It’s 6pm now and my whole body aches still…

Life, eh?