Adventures with magnets (part two)...

All right, so when last we left our story, I was staring down the business end of a magnet that meant serious business...

Trying to force the image of being burned alive from my head (lest I somehow taint the results of what was about to take place), I deposited my remaining loose articles in a small wicker basket (how quaint) and proceeded to make my way over to “the machine.” Having been briefed at length on the various frightening and dramatic reactions other people had encountered upon embarking on this experience, my formerly calm outlook was now replaced with a growing fear – not really over what was about to happen, but rather a fear of embarrassing myself in front of the three professionals who now stood before me.

Now why exactly I cared what the woman wearing the bunny-print smock thought about the way I was conducting myself is a separate question altogether – and is one that I guess will have to be left for another occasion...

So, I laid down on the table and tried to make myself comfortable. I had just begun to convince myself that things weren’t so bad after all, when they brought out “the helmet.” Apparently, the medical personnel I had just been asked to put MY faith in, had such little faith in my ability to keep my head still that they felt it would be necessary to lock me into place like a battery in a flashlight. I soon came to learn that the helmet also served another purpose... helping to funnel the magnetic rays more directly into my skull.

Lovely.

To add insult to my impending fear of injury, I was then given earplugs and additional weighted “pillows” to help protect me from... something.

I can’t really tell you what they were supposed to protect me from, because once they put the earplugs in, everyone took on the audible characteristics of an adult from the “peanuts” cartoons, and I no longer possessed the capacity for discernable conversation.

Example:

Me: “Excuse me oh kind purveyor of the magnets lady... why are you smooshing sandbags into my head?”

Her: “wah, wah, wah, wah waaah... wah wah.”

Me: “but shouldn’t I be concerned if I’m letting someone expose me to something that requires these types of precautions?”

Her: “wah”

Me: “but what if I need to get out really quick... you know, like if there’s a fire or something?”

Her: “ha, ha, ha... waah, wah”

Then she walked away chuckling...

My fears fully realized, she hit the button to start my ascent... my descent... my... well whatever “cent” applies to lateral motion...

I began to slowly slide into the tube and I must admit... it was pretty freaky. Trying to come to grips with the fact that the ceiling was now only about an inch above my forehead, with the side walls just slightly wider than my frame... well that was a bit much... I never really considered myself to be susceptible to claustrophobia, but at that given moment in time, given my surroundings... I was beginning to get a strong feeling that my body was more than willing to take it up as a hobby...

So I closed my eyes... and that’s when the noises and the shaking began.

Correction... first there was the buzzing. Imagine if you will, being trapped inside one of the machines that gives hearing tests to fourth graders... You know, the ones where you sit on the hard-backed chair in the nurse’s office, and she plays all sorts of buzzing sounds, and expects you to raise your hand every time you hear one... well imagine that you’re inside one of those, and you can’t move or see anything... and instead of just hearing the sounds... imagine that you get a little shock every time one of the little “buzzes” is played...

(you know, kind of like if you stuck the wires from a smoke alarm together without disconnecting the power first – not that I’ve ever done that 17 times or anything)

Sounds like fun, huh?

Ok, so not EVERY sound was accompanied by pain... but enough of them were that I was beginning to get mildly suspicious... and I began to wonder if maybe something was wrong with the machine.... I was starting to worry that I was going to end up the subject of one of those weird news stories where something really bizarre happens and some poor schmuck has to watch his own nose disintegrate in front of his face because someone forgot to press the right switch...

(yes, I think about things like that)

I considered saying something... but I knew any indecipherable response I would get would probably accomplish nothing but to annoy the lady behind the controls... and as they always say:

“He who angers the magnet-lady.... um... probably won’t be able to carry credit cards in his pocket for a really long time.”

...or something.

Basically, I just had to hold on and hope for the best.

Sure enough, about 20 minutes later, the noises and the clicking and the shaking and the pain all stopped, and they pulled me back out of the machine.

I was congratulating myself on a job well done (and starting to get my pulse to return to normal), when she appeared with the needle. Still locked in the helmet, there was little I could do to avoid her. She injected me with... something... and smiled, saying it was “wah, wah” and would “wah wah wah,” my “wah wah” (I still had the earplugs in).

Left with no other choice, I simply smiled back and resigned myself to the fact that I was no longer in control of anything that would happen to my body (heck... if these people decided they wanted to shave my chest and use it to play a marathon game of “Risk,” well the best I would be able to do is undulate my tummy in hopes of simulating a large earthquake).

Then... they slid me BACK into the tube, for another round of the human buzzer... which mercifully, was much shorter than the last.

When all was said and done, I changed back into my clothes (trying not to disturb the fresh band aid on my arm) and quickly made my way back out to my car, quite sure that somehow my body parts must have retained at least some sort of magnetic charge (I confusing quite a few people in the parking lot when I tried to see if my face would stick to a lexus)...

It wasn’t really as miserable an experience as I have described... I’ve embellished here, and I’m being a bit overdramatic... In fact, I had made peace with the whole experience and even almost forgiven the people involved in my torture for causing me such anguish when I received a certain phone call last week... It seems they “forgot” to run a couple of tests when I was there, and now (and I swear this is the truth) they need me to come back so they can run them again...

Wonderful.

Maybe this time I’ll wear a thong... that should have me out of there in no time.