A Word Of Advice: Don’t Do What I Did And Drink The Night Before Getting An MRI On Your Head

I’ll be the first to admit that I make a lot of stupid decisions in my day to day life. Whether it be placing risky bets on meaningless games or not wearing a condom when I probably should, I definitely don’t think things through nearly as much as I should. Well today my faulty thinking practices lead me to have one of the worst experiences of my life and that isn’t an exaggeration. I underwent torture this morning and it didn’t occur in an ISIS compound or some sadistic kidnapper’s basement, it happened at a doctor’s office. So what happened exactly? Well to put it simply I was an idiot, drank a lot last night, and had to lay in suffering while I got a brain MRI while hungover as fuck this morning.

To most people it would seem pretty self explanatory to chill out the night before something like this, but I guess I forgot to give myself the memo. Allow me to explain how I ended up in this situation real quick. I think I blogged about it before but I’ve been getting pretty bad headaches for a few months now. My doctor said I should probably get an MRI to make sure I’m not dying (Her words, not mine) so I did just that. Apparently they only do MRI’s in the morning at this place so my hands were tied and the only appointment I could get was this morning at 9:45 AM. As we all know Thursday Night Football and a Sox/Yanks game was on last night so I didn’t really stand a chance of staying sober. Alcohol was calling my name like a mythical siren and despite promising myself I was gonna take it easy, the Sox clinching the division and an awful Jets/Browns game lead to me getting drunk out of my mind.

Which brings me into this morning. I woke up with one of those hangovers where the sound of silence is too loud and hurts your brain. With bags under my eyes, a pounding headache, and a stomach ready to release its contents at any given moment, I defied the odds and made it to my 9:45 appointment in one piece. Yeah I felt rough, but “How bad can an MRI be?” I kept telling myself. Famous last words, and the next half hour of my life would be my least favorite 30 minutes I’ve ever had.

I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten an MRI on the upper half of your body before, but basically they strap you down to a table and put you into a giant tube. Here’s what the machine looks like for reference

MRI stands for Magnetic Resonance Imaging, and it’s used to take a really detailed look at whatever part of the body you need checked out. To accomplish this, it makes extremely loud noises and even moves back and forth and vibrates sometimes while it’s capturing the images. Noise and movement aren’t exactly ideal for a hangover, but I remained optimistic and thought it’d still be a piece of cake. After all, I’d been hungover and done shit thousands of times, so why would this be any different? They gave me earplugs, but those fuckers must have been defective or something because I heard every second of it. Ear amplifiers would have been a more fitting name. Maybe I put them in wrong or something, but for the sake of this blog I’m gonna blame this on the nurse instead of me because I’m an asshole that doesn’t take responsibility for his own mistakes. So there I am inside this giant tube trying to stay completely still while listening to a series of deafeningly loud beeps and vibrations that are piercing through my head like a bad barber. It felt like I was in the front row at an EDM concert that was headlined by a DJ that needs a lot more practice. I thought about pressing the panic button they gave me multiple times, but momma didn’t raise no bitch. Since I was strapped down inside a weird tube and listening to weird beeps and shit, it actually kinda felt like I got abducted by aliens and they were performing experiments on me. Thankfully an anal probe wasn’t one of those tests, and although it was tough I made it through the full 30 minute MRI, which might as well have been 30 years because that’s what it felt like at the time. After it was over, I immediately B lined it to the bathroom and violently puked like a bulimic teenager after dinner. Talk about a great start to my day.

I’ve been miserable plenty of times before while recouperating from a night of hitting the sauce, but this was without a doubt the worst experience I’ve ever had while hungover. I don’t mean to belittle the condition or anything but I honestly think I might have some minor PTSD from what went down this morning. That’s how shitty it was. Just thought I’d share my misery with you guys because I figured I might as well put my suffering to good use. Everybody loves laughing at the pain of others, so you’re welcome for sharing. So a final reminder: Do not drink the night before getting an MRI, CAT Scan, any shit like that. If you wake up hungover just do yourself a favor and cancel the appointment. Trust me. And lastly, here’s to hoping I don’t have a brain tumor or something awful like that. Thoughts and prayers for yours truly, Drunk White Kid, and have a good Friday night everybody.


  1. Oh no! Must admit I did giggle at your retelling if the tragic incident. What did you drink? I guess it was beer? Some drinks would’ve allowed you to get away with it more than others. (I have spent an inordinate amount of time studying which drinks give better and worse hangovers.) Hope the results of the scan help to fix the headaches.

    Liked by 1 person

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