Hi, I had two done last year for my back, and honestly the main thing I felt was pain in my back from lying on a steel table. The noise and banging didn't bother me. The technicians / nurses were very good. I'm not in the least claustrophobic so that part didn't worry me at all. (Now if they'd had me lying on a table three stories above the ground that would have been entirely different). And yes you have to wear the earphones - but you don't have to listen to the radio if you don't want to. It's just that they make the machine a little quieter and allow the nurse to speak to you from the other room. As for the horror stories - I've heard them, seen them on telly, but they don't worry me. I don't have any metal in me ave for my mercury fillings. But one thing they did say which may be relevant, is that you don't want to have your skin touching the plastic of the tunnel (an issue for those of us of somewhat more rotunditudeness to quote Mork from Ork). Apparently it can burn. Cheers, Greg.
I have an arthritic hip, and had an MRI last year. I was also in a motorcycle accident in 2012, and had one then. One thing you need to know is, there is a huge difference between MRI machines. In 2012, I was taken to the emergency room at the biggest, and most modern hospital in my area. The MRI machine was roomy, and it took about 10 minutes. No problemo. The machine they used when I had the MRI on my hip was much older It was a VERY tight fit, and I had to lay completely still for 45 minutes. The MRI operator makes a huge difference, too, as you'll see later. So, the hip MRI ...... They told me they would have to inject some dye into my hip joint, right at the ball-and-socket, and would use an x-ray to make sure they got the dye in the right place. I got into the open-backed hospital gown, and the dude put me on the table, spread-eagled, with the smock pulled aside to expose my crotch/hip joint, barely covering the good parts. I was feeling extremely exposed; more so when a few moments later, this super-hot 35 year-old woman walked in wearing a lab coat, and introduced herself as Dr. Smokinhotbabe. She was very pleasant and professional, and explained that she would be giving me a series of shots; two painkillers, and then the dye. She started by swabbing the area in question with a topical anesthetic. Then she took a small needle and gave me a series of shots. The topical anesthetic had worked well, and I barely felt the needle. The fact that I was intently focused on thinking about race cars, and Bar-B-Q, and Adele so as not to have an involuntary reaction probably helped, too. I mean, if I had, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but I couldn't remember the last time my manparts had gotten that close to a hot chick without her dialing 911. She moved on to a larger needle, that went in deeper. It wasn't a problem, and I was feeling pretty confident until she called for the needle containing the dye. It was about the size of a bazooka, and she had to get three assistants to help her lift it up. They shuffled back in to the next room in order to get a running start, sprinted towards me with a war-cry that sounded like something out of Braveheart and plunged the needle in to my hip, narrowly missing the best parts of me. The anesthesiologist looked intently at the x-ray monitor and moved the needle around as she made sure the dye went everywhere she wanted it to be. It hurt a little, but more than that, it just felt strange and weird as the fluid filled my joint. After about ten minutes, Dr Womanofmydreams was through, and the dude took me in to the MRI room. I was immediately apprehensive. The MRI tube was a lot smaller than the one I'd been in back in 2012. The MRI tech wasn't very reassuring, either. He was wearing a set of mismatched scrubs, with torn-off sleeves that revealed a tattoo on his left shoulder that I think was supposed to be Jesus, but bore a striking resemblance to Justin Bieber, except with long hair, a beard, and a crown of thorns. He had a "From My Cold Dead Hands" tattoo on his right shoulder. Also, "Dead" was spelled "Dedd". I don't think that was on-purpose. When he shook my hand, I could see his fingernails were bitten to the quick, and when I told him I was a little nervous, he produced a pint of Johnny Walker Red and asked if I wanted a belt. I grabbed the offered plastic bottle and cannonballed it, all in one long gulp. "Hey!" said the tech, "That was supposed to get me through to lunch! What am I going to do now, it's only 10:30?" Gasping for breath, I ignored him, and belched a blast of 300 proof alcohol fumes at the potted rhododendron in the corner. It immediately turned brown and began to shed leaves. Eyes watering, partly from bravado, more from inebriation-induced vertigo, I collapsed on to the table thing that slides into the tube and said: "Let's run this baby up the flagpole and see if anybody salutes!" The MRI tech handed me a cable with a button on the end of it, and told me if I had any problem, all I had to do was press it. He strapped my legs down, telling me it was very important that I lie very still. As he went to put me in to the tube, he had me hold my arms up over my head, and only slid me part-way in. "You're lucky we're doing your hip, and I don't have to put you all the way in." He said. "The last guy your size I had in there freaked out." How reassuring! My shirt was pulling at my armpit, so I had the guy hold on to the panic button while I adjusted it. He left the room without giving it back. I called him back several times, but he must not have heard me. Either that, or he was REALLY pissed over that pint of Johnny Walker Red. The speaker squawked, and he said something unintelligible. It was either "OK, we're ready to start now. Don't move.", or "Romney should have won in 2012!". I couldn't tell which. Without warning, I slid further in to the MRI tube until my chin was just inside of the rim. My arms had nowhere to rest, and having my head hanging out of that tube made me feel like I was struggling to keep my head above water. I started taking long, slow breaths and focused on counting them to try and ward off the panic I felt rising in me. Suddenly, the MRI machine began making a loud noise that sounded like a cross between the warp drive on the USS Enterprise when it got out-of-tune while Scotty was away at court-mandated rehab, and my toaster when I plugged it in to the mis-labelled 220 volt outlet: "BAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!" it went. The sound continued for about 5 minutes. Then, it stopped for a minute, or two before resuming: "BAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!" That cycle continued for four counts of one-thousand-five-hundred, each. I know that because I'd kept counting to try and keep from giving in to my steadily-rising panic. Holding my arms over my head was becoming more and more uncomfortable. My left shoulder has an old rotator cuff injury, and it started slipping out-of-socket. I began calling the tech as loudly as I could, waving my good arm around in the air. The speaker squawked. I couldn't understand what he said, and kept waving my one good arm and hollering. He came back on the speaker several more times, sounding progressively angrier, but I still couldn't understand what he was saying. I think he might have said "Gore was robbed in 2000!" one of those times, but I couldn't be sure. Eventually, the MRI tech stormed into the room, demanding to know why I was moving around so much. "We're going to have to do it all over again!" he said. Now, by that time, my left shoulder was completely dislocated, and was hanging at an obviously unnatural angle. The pain of it, and the anger over the way the tech was acting removed all restraints from my panic, and I lost it. "Get me out of here!" I said The MRI tech put on an officious voice, and said: "Sir, are you saying you wish to terminate this procedure?" "GET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!" I said. The tech repeated himself, if anything, sounding even more officious: "Sir, are you saying you wish to terminate this procedure?" I began pulling against the restraints on my leg as hard as I could: "You'd better start running, you sonofabitch!" I said as I struggled to free my leg and get out of that tube. "You can't threaten me!" he said as he ran out the door. "I'm going to get my supervisor!" I finally got out of the tube, opened a drawer, put my left forearm in it, then twisted my upper body until my shoulder popped back in. I then went out into the lobby, my butt hanging out of the hospital gown, demanding to speak to whomever was in charge immediately No one would come out. They literally shut the shades on the check-in window. I figured I'd better get out of there before they called the cops, so I grabbed my clothes and split, ass-hanging out, and all. (NOTE: While the reader may suspect I have possibly taken some certain minor liberties with the truth in some nonessential elements of this tale, I swear everything from the time I went into the MRI tube until I mooned the little old ladies in the lobby, and left is true. I don't mean true like in the beginning of Fargo, where they say the story is true, I mean like as true as true can be. ) I called the doctor who had referred me and told him what had happened as I drove home, trying to keep the KFC crumbs on my seat from travelling into my nether regions due to the open back of the hospital gown. He told me he'd look in to it. The next day, he called me back, said they were very sorry, that they weren't going to charge me for the botched MRI, and that they would do it again for free; this time in an open MRI. He explained that open MRIs didn't have the same definition as closed MRIs, but he believed it would be sufficient. I started to decline, but then I remembered Dr. Ohmygodsheisbeautiful. "Will I have to get another shot?" I asked. He said I would. I think I surprised him when I said OK, but I had a plan. We set it up for the next morning. I decided to do it right this time. I went by the local florist and ordered flowers and candy to be delivered to Dr. Soulmate. I was stumped for a minute by the card; I didn't know her name. I had a flash of amorous inspiration, and wrote: "To the beautiful angel of mercy who will give me my shots ... I can't wait to be penetrated by you." On the way home, I had another flash of inspiration, and decided to get some manscaping done. I stopped by the local Asian spa. This tiny woman helped me, speaking a mile-a-minute, but I couldn't understand a word. Finally, I looked at the sign overhead listing the services. I didn't know what any of them meant, but everyone was talking about the World Cup, and I remembered Pele was a great soccer player when I was a kid, and he was from Brazil, so I pointed to "Brazilian" on the sign and said: "I'll take that one!" Wow. That's all I have to say about that. So I got there the next morning, and the dude had me change into the hospital gown again, and put me spread-eagled on the x-ray table again, and exposed my newly manscaped hip joint/crotch area again. I was giddy with anticipation, waiting for Dr. Loveofmylife to come through that door. Instead, this bald dude about 5 feet tall, and 4 feet wide came walking in holding a Whitman's Sampler box, chewing furiously, his cheeks bulging like a hamster who'd just gotten in to an extra-large bag of sunflower seeds.. "Thanks a lot, man!" he said, nearly unintelligible due to the third-pound of chocolate in his mouth, "I love the ones with caramel in the middle!" "Where's the anesthesiologist I saw yesterday?" I asked? "Today's her day off, big guy." he said, winking. "You ready?" Wow. That's all I have to say about that. So they took me in to the open MRI, with a different MRI tech. This guy explained the entire process to me. Turns out, in between when the MRI is going "BAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!", you can move around a little bit. We did the MRI. Every time the MRI quit going "BAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!", the MRI tech would come on the speaker, which I could hear this time, asked how I was doing, and told me I could move around a bit, if I liked. When he'd be ready to start back up, he'd come on the speaker and tell me. It took about thirty minutes, and there was no anxiety whatsoever. I honestly think if I'd had the second MRI tech, I'd have been OK the first time. Well, I've got to go. My weekly Brazilian appointment is in thirty minutes. Hope my experience helps you.
I've had a couple a few years apart and for different things. Years ago I had some sort of scan that required an injection first - can't remember what type that was. 1) Did you expect to feel claustrophobic? Did you get a sedative? - Not offered a sedative, didn't need one. I've been in tight places caving. 2) Was the technician helpful or irritable or do you remember them for any reason? What music do you want to listen to, here's the headphones. 3) Did you hear horror stories beforehand? Metal objects flying about, etc. Nope 4) Did you have any dye injected first? Not for the last 2 MRI's can't remember what I had the dye for. 5) Was it noisy? Boring? Did you fall asleep? Did you end the procedure early for any reason? Incredibly noisy - and I wish I hadn't said anything for the music - crap music didn't help at all. None would have been better. Stayed awake, boring, completed.
I had an MRI scan once - I had to lie down on a sliding bed for a few minutes as it moved in and out of a loud narrow tube. I don't believe I was offered a sedative, and I haven't suffered from claustrophobia before. A set of headphones was given to me, but I had no control over the music. They just played a radio station through it. The only horror stories I'd heard of were about metal piercings being ripped out, and metallic makeup pushing through the skin. I wear neither of these, so I had no worries. I've never heard of dye being used in an MRI scan, but I imagine it could exist for various checks. It was very noisy. There was a low, repetitive rumbling noise every time they turned the scanner on. It stopped whenever the bed moved, though this was to move me into position for the next scanning cycle. I didn't fall asleep and the procedure was completed normally.
1. I didn't expect to feel claustrophobic, but I did. Worst. Feeling. Ever. I didn't use a sedative. 2. The technician was a man. He was very nice and helpful. The whole staff was. That's what kept it from being a nightmare. 3. No, I didn't hear horror stories before. But I did hear some afterwards, oddly enough. 4. For the first half of it, I didn't get any dye injected. I did for the second half of it, though. 5. It was very noisy, so much so that I had a huge headache afterwards. I have some sound issues anyways. I stuck it out for the whole 30 minutes.
