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 repeatedly hitting the snooze button on the morning of something important, sometimes I make rash decisions without thinking them and their consequences through
Today, those faulty thinking practices lead to me me having one of the worst experiences of my life, and that isn’t an exaggeration. I underwent torture this morning, and it didn’t happen at 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 drank a lot last night like an idiot, woke up with a bad hangover, and then had to lay there in agony while I got a brain MRI this morning
To most people it would seem pretty self-explanatory to relax the night before something like a brain MRI, but I’m not most people. Like I said before, I make bad decisions all the time, so why not make one more?
I think I’ve mentioned it on here before, but I’ve been getting pretty bad headaches for a few months now completely out of the blue, and that is why I was scheduled for this MRI in the first place. My doctor said I should probably get one on my head to “Make sure I’m not dying”. I swear to God she said that. Although my doctor is cool and I knew she was joking around, that’s a pretty fucked up thing to hear from a doctor in relation to mysterious headaches. Regardless of the professionalism, I agreed with her. Believe it or not, I also wanted to make sure I wasn’t dying, so I went out into the lobby to book my appointment.
Apparently they only do MRIs in the morning at this place, so convenience-wise my hands were tied, and the only appointment I could get was this morning at 9:45 AM. There was Thursday Night Football and a Sox/Yanks game on last night, and when you combine that with the brutal day I had at work, 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, watching The Red Sox clinch the division plus an awful Jets/Browns game lead to me staying up late and getting drunk out of my mind.
Which brings me into this morning. I woke up with one of those hangovers where you just know the whole day is going to suck the second you open your eyes. The sound of silence was too loud to bear, and I could barely remember my own name as I sat down in the shower and let the water rain over me. 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 I kept telling myself, “How bad can an MRI be?”. Famous last words, and the next half hour of my life would be the 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 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 basically it takes really detailed pictures of whatever part of the body you need checked out. I don’t know how the science behind these machines, but what I do know is that they make extremely loud noises, move back and forth, and even vibrate sometimes while capturing these images. Loud noise and sudden movement aren’t exactly ideal for a hangover, but I remained optimistic and thought it would still be a piece of cake. After all, I’ve been hungover and gone out and done things thousands of times before, so why would this be any different?
They gave me earplugs, but they must have been defective or something because I heard every second of it. Ear amplifiers would have been a more fitting name. Sure there’s always the possibility that I put them in wrong or something, but for the sake of this blog, I’m gonna blame this on the earplugs instead of my own possible user error
So there I was, encased in this giant tube and trying to stay completely still while a series of deafeningly loud beeps and vibrations pierced through my head like a bad barber. It sounded and felt like I was in the front row at an EDM concert, but the show was being headlined by a DJ that needs a lot more practice. I thought about pressing the panic button they gave me multiple times, but my momma didn’t raise no bitch, so I toughed it out as best I could
Now that I think back, it sort of felt like I got abducted by aliens and they were doing experiments on me. I mean think about it: I was strapped down to a table, put into a giant machine, there were bright lights and weird beeping noises. Sounds like a UFO to me. Thankfully an anal probe wasn’t one of these experiments, and the aliens erased my memory and transported back down to the doctor’s office right as the aid come back in the room to tell me it was over
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 a big dinner. Talk about a great start to my day
I’ve been miserable plenty of times while recouperating from a night of hitting the sauce too hard, 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 form of PTSD from what I experienced this morning. If I ever find myself in a tight space and hear beeping noises, this is gonna be me
And that’s that. Just thought I’d share my misery with you guys because you should never let perfectly good suffering go to waste. Everybody loves laughing at the pain of others, so you’re welcome for sharing
Here’s my final reminder to you all: DO NOT drink the night before getting an MRI, CAT Scan, or anything like that. If you make the same mistake I did and 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, Chuck Taylor, and have a good Friday night everybody
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