Underwear

As modest as I am about nakedness, I am even more so about underwear. I would much rather be glimpsed in my all-together than my Just-My-Size underwear.

I can only attribute this to my many years in the military where you were required to strip down to your skivvies for even a foot exam. I tell you I have been on "High Alert" these last few days as I've made my rounds regarding my injured knee.

As I filled out paperwork in preparation of a MRI, I asked the receptionist if I would have to wear a gown for the scan. When she told me I could keep my clothes on, I let out a, "Yippie Skippie!" She said, "Pardon Me?" to which I joyfully responded, "I'm so happy I get to keep my clothes on!"

The receptionist then led me through a seemingly endless list of all the possible metal items I might have in my body. I felt as though I had gotten an "A" on a test by having answered "No" to each; but then she paused, and looked me right in the eye. "Do you have any metal in your eyes?"

I tell you I gasped out loud, "Would I know if I had metal in my eye? Do people come here with metal in their eyes?" To which she non-nonchalantly answered, "You'd be surprised." She then had me sign a release stating I knew I could cause major bodily harm to myself and the technicians if I entered the scanning room with any metal on my person.

The receptionist had me then place my purse in a locker which she locked and handed me the key dangling from a telephone cord like bracelet. "You can go in to the scanning room now." I didn't take a step!  I raised my wrist with the dangling key, "What about the metal release form?"

Thank goodness the technician took my key the moment I crossed the threshold of the imaging room. I was directed to lie down on the scanning table as the technician explained that three scans would be taken, each lasting about 17 minutes. He handed me a panic button, placed ear phones on my head, and removed himself to the control panel.

The table began to whir, I felt myself entering the scanner. The technician asked what type of music did I wish to listen to. I opened my eyes and realized my head was just outside the tunnel shaped opening. "Oh my gosh! My head is going to be on the outside? I don't need to listen to any music." He said that I had to as the noise the machine made could harm my ears. "Talk Radio, please"

It was at this very moment as the machine began it's jackhammer like thumping, and my earphones began talking in Spanish, that I realized my underwear was not situated just right. Oh My Gosh! I barely got through the first session trying to keep my mind off my squitchy underwear by desperately trying to recognize familiar words in Spanish.

The technician asked if I was okay at the end of the first session, but what could I say?  "We need to start all over because my underwear is in a bunch?" Let me tell you this was the longest hour of my life!

I go back to my doctor this coming Tuesday to have the scans read. I am already wondering if I will get to keep my clothes on if surgery is called for. Either way, I guarantee you my underwear will be situated!

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