Today I was scheduled to participate in a research study here on campus for mad cash that involved me getting an MRI. I had to be at the hospital at 7am, so I woke up early, fumbled around getting ready and drove in to the city. I showed up on time, in my pajamas, with no metal on me, ready to rock and roll. They weighed me (uggghhhh), measured me (why do they always assign me the nurses that can't reach over my head??) and took me to my room for breakfast. The thing about research is: it's all about consistency. They like to keep the different factors from patient to patient as even as possible to provide the most accurate data. As a result, they bring us a predetermined breakfast that we have to eat all of.
So in walks my oompa loompa sized nurse carrying a tray of what I'm sure is soggy hospital food and sets it down in front of me. "What do we have here?" I ask myself as I inspect the contents of the tray. 1 Sarah Lee banana nut bread muffin that is WARM (delicious), cheerios with VITAMIN D MILK (what the hell?!? You give that to babies and old people to fatten them up, not a 23 year old who is trying to lose weight) and a banana. So far, so good. Then I see them: 2 cups of orange juice, a cup of coffee and a cup of water--all of this in addition to the fat milk. My mind immediately focuses on the fact that I will be literally stuck in a tube for an undetermined amount of time, with a cage over my face preventing me from moving, and they want me to drink my body weight in liquids?!?! You've gotta be shittin me. So I politely ask, "Do I have to drink all of this? I'd hate to have to use the restroom during the scan." With 1 simple word, my entire morning was ruined: "Yes."
So I did. And boy did they regret. To help matters, not only did they make me drink 1,576 gallons of liquids, they then laid all these gadgets RIGHT ON TOP OF MY BLADDER as they slid me into the scanner. They give you this little headset, you see, kind of like what telemarketers wear. It's got headphones and a microphone so you can talk to the people in the control room (or "Mission Control" as I call it). Then, right on your chest, they place *drum roll please* THE MAGIC BUTTON. This button has the almighty power of stopping the scan in its tracks and sliding the table you're laying on out of the MRI tube within a matter of seconds. This is usually reserved for people who have anxiety and start to meltdown in this teenie tiny tube. I'm always afraid to push that button because it pisses the MRI techs and the study coordinators off. But today......today I was forced to push that button 3 times. I would inform them that I had to pee and they'd say something cute like, "We only have 3 more scans lasting 7 minutes each! Let's try to finish them up so it doesn't throw off the order of things! We know you can do it! We believe in you!!" Ok. Thanks. That's fine and dandy and I appreciate your support, but the fact of the matter is you pumped me full of fluids then shoved me in a tube, told me not to move and then revoked my bathroom privileges. I'm Irish. I'm feisty. And even when I am consciously trying to cooperate and be nice, subconsciously I'm still Irish. You tell me I can't pee for another 21 minutes? Mentally, I'm going to say, "Yes Sure. I can hold it. I can do this." But my bladder is going to go into a code red emergency just because you told me to hold it with the sole intention of mocking you. It's the nature of the beast. By the end of the study, I had 5 people frustrated with me. Normally I would care. Today I didn't. To those 5 people and also anyone else in the medical field, I say this:
Don't shove fluids down your patients throats, set 20lbs on their bladders and tell them they can't use the restroom because that move will blow up in your face right quick.
As a side note: What idiot gives a cup of coffee to a person who has to go lay completely still in a tube for 3 hours?!?!?
So in walks my oompa loompa sized nurse carrying a tray of what I'm sure is soggy hospital food and sets it down in front of me. "What do we have here?" I ask myself as I inspect the contents of the tray. 1 Sarah Lee banana nut bread muffin that is WARM (delicious), cheerios with VITAMIN D MILK (what the hell?!? You give that to babies and old people to fatten them up, not a 23 year old who is trying to lose weight) and a banana. So far, so good. Then I see them: 2 cups of orange juice, a cup of coffee and a cup of water--all of this in addition to the fat milk. My mind immediately focuses on the fact that I will be literally stuck in a tube for an undetermined amount of time, with a cage over my face preventing me from moving, and they want me to drink my body weight in liquids?!?! You've gotta be shittin me. So I politely ask, "Do I have to drink all of this? I'd hate to have to use the restroom during the scan." With 1 simple word, my entire morning was ruined: "Yes."
So I did. And boy did they regret. To help matters, not only did they make me drink 1,576 gallons of liquids, they then laid all these gadgets RIGHT ON TOP OF MY BLADDER as they slid me into the scanner. They give you this little headset, you see, kind of like what telemarketers wear. It's got headphones and a microphone so you can talk to the people in the control room (or "Mission Control" as I call it). Then, right on your chest, they place *drum roll please* THE MAGIC BUTTON. This button has the almighty power of stopping the scan in its tracks and sliding the table you're laying on out of the MRI tube within a matter of seconds. This is usually reserved for people who have anxiety and start to meltdown in this teenie tiny tube. I'm always afraid to push that button because it pisses the MRI techs and the study coordinators off. But today......today I was forced to push that button 3 times. I would inform them that I had to pee and they'd say something cute like, "We only have 3 more scans lasting 7 minutes each! Let's try to finish them up so it doesn't throw off the order of things! We know you can do it! We believe in you!!" Ok. Thanks. That's fine and dandy and I appreciate your support, but the fact of the matter is you pumped me full of fluids then shoved me in a tube, told me not to move and then revoked my bathroom privileges. I'm Irish. I'm feisty. And even when I am consciously trying to cooperate and be nice, subconsciously I'm still Irish. You tell me I can't pee for another 21 minutes? Mentally, I'm going to say, "Yes Sure. I can hold it. I can do this." But my bladder is going to go into a code red emergency just because you told me to hold it with the sole intention of mocking you. It's the nature of the beast. By the end of the study, I had 5 people frustrated with me. Normally I would care. Today I didn't. To those 5 people and also anyone else in the medical field, I say this:
Don't shove fluids down your patients throats, set 20lbs on their bladders and tell them they can't use the restroom because that move will blow up in your face right quick.
As a side note: What idiot gives a cup of coffee to a person who has to go lay completely still in a tube for 3 hours?!?!?
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