I hope this blog post finds you well

I went into the tube today. My new neurologist wanted me to get an MRI to see if there was anything wrong(er) with my brain. She said it probably should have been done a year ago when I was first diagnosed. But my old neurologist was a chump, I've been waiting and worrying the last couple weeks about my date with the tube.

Everyone I know told me to be worried about the tube. They asked if I'm claustrophobic. I'm not claustrophobic, I don't think. But I do feel anxious in weird situations. For instance, when I can't fidget and move around, I get very uncomfortable and feel pressed on and trapped. Like when I'm standing in a line for concessions at a movie theater and I can't go anywhere because I'm in a line and I need to get my popcorn, but there's a group of like three people in front of me and they're ordering each transaction separately. So like each one's getting a popcorn and a Coke, and a popcorn and a Coke, and a popcorn and a Coke. When they could just do it all in one transaction, and Venmo or Cash App each other later. You're holding up the line! I want my treats, so I can't leave, and I feel what I think claustrophobia must feel like. Even though I'm not actually in an enclosed space, it feels like I am because the line is an arbitrary space which I cannot leave because I want my treats.

And one time I went to a fancy man salon (Sports Clips) and they gave me a hot towel treatment at the end. When the lady put the towel around my face, I felt like I was trapped. It was awful. I hated it. I was squirming. It was like being waterboarded, but gently with a hot towel. And so that was my big worry. That my head would be in the tube and that they would put something so close to my face that I'd feel the way I do when I have a hot towel on my face. That I would panic and freak out and have to squeeze the little ball that calls the nurse to shut it down. But I was a big boy and didn't freak out at all.

They put me in the tube. They put some earplugs in me. They put padding alongside my head so I couldn't really move my head, which was good because it stopped me from fidgeting and made my head feel supported. Like I was being cradled in someone's arms. It was comforting. Relaxing. The low, rhythmic whirring of the machine was like a chill vibes rave. I wanted to get a pacifier and start shuffling. But then the noise started.

No one ever told me is how loud it was. And the earplugs weren't very good. Had I known how loud it was going to be, I could have brought my earplugs that I wear when I go to a soccer game and I have to sit close to the fan section, the supporter section, whatever they call it, where it's just people yelling and banging drums and playing various windpipe instruments for 90 minutes straight. I think those earplugs would have done better.

But after 10 minutes it was all over. My appointment was at 9 o'clock. I was out by 9:17. The results were in by 9:37. The doctor who examined my MRI said my brain is “unremarkable.” Cutting. I feel attacked. I'm glad the tube didn't reveal anything bad, but they could have said something nice about my brain. Maybe that I have a nice lobe. Or a robust ganglia or something. I don't know. Unremarkable? How dare you. Could an unremarkable brain draw a clock, identify a camel, a score a 29/30 on the Montreal Cognitive Assessment? I don't think so. Put some respect on my brain, doc.