Back on April 14 I talked about going to a neurologist to determine if I should drop a particular medication. The mutual decision was "No", but the neurologist still wanted me to get an MRI of my head. To determine if there was anything in there, I suppose.
Well, today was the day, and I must say it was quite an ordeal. I've had CT scans, which I endured, and while the equipment is somewhat similar, the experience was ... well, ...not similar. For one thing they placed some gadget over my face, so that when my nose itched, I couldn't scratch. Ok, I endured that. But Good Grief, Charlie Brown, was this thing NOISY! There was a constant BANG, BANG, BANG, to which was added Clink, clink, clink, clink, followed by bong, bong, bong, interspersed with chunk, chunk, chunk, chunk, grk, grk, grk, clack, clack, glk, glk, glk. Sounded like an out-of-tune marimba band. I finally decided that the equipment was a cross betsween a CIA torture unit, and a badly managed sound effects studio. I lived through it.
Howzabout sumpin' funny -
This is the story about the woman who was born and grew up in a small town. (Hope I haven't told this one before.) She lived there all her life. Went to the same church all her life. But as she grew older, she was not always able to make it to church, so the minister would come to visit her now and then. On this particular occasion, when the woman was really up there in years, the minister said to her, "You know, you're at that time of life when you should be thinking about the Hereafter." "Oh, I do, Reverend, I do" exclaimed the lady. "Whenever I go into a room, I think to myself, 'What am I here after' "