I can't even tell you what it was like

Really, not from lack of trying.

I had an MRI of the leg I broke today because of the continued pain I've had in it. The break happened October 29, 2007, but it still kills me. My orthopedic surgeon became concerned that maybe I have bone fragments in my ligaments, which is why I am having so much pain. He ordered an MRI to look at the whole shebang.

Ever had a CT-Scan? They suck. They're loud, you get slid around on this tiny bench that your arms don't fit on, and you always seem to go too far into the machine like the tech is messing up. My first CT I was scared. The second was fun because I got to see the inside of my head. My third was for the broken leg.

Because I couldn't hold my broken leg in the proper position, the CT technicians used surgical tape to tape me into place. Broken bone, contorted leg, taped stationery. It sucked. And it seemed to go on forever. I swear, for just needing to scan my ankle, they slid me in and out of that ring for eons. I could just imagine the conversation behind the glass wall:

"No Jimmy--move the knob left!"

"I said, Sarah, the knob goes right!"

"Left!"

"Right!"

At least that's what it felt like as I was jerked in and out of the machine, praying they'd release my poor leg and just give me my damn crutches back.

So I dreaded the MRI of the ankle. I've heard all the horror stories of the MRI--claustrophobia, can't move, bizarre anxiety reactions. And jeez, this was the big whammy up from the CT-Scan, which I hated by the third-go-round. What could the MRI possibly be like?

I don't know. I was put on that tiny bench your arms don't fit on, given headphones and asked to pick any satellite radio station I could ask for, and ... I fell asleep to the dulcet tunes of Abba. "You can dance, you cannnnn" ... snorrre.

The tech came in to wake me up: "Hey? Where'd you go?"

"What? I, I don't know. I guess I fell asleep."

"Happens all the time actually."

"I remember Abba and then you waking me up."

Here's what I can tell you about the MRI experience. It's freakin cold. Wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt, folks, unlike me. It's Florida, I wore shorts and a tank top. Even before Abba knocked me out, I had to ask for two blankets.

It turns out the MRI machine is cooled by liquid helium. That's cold. Really cold. And the room is really cold. And man did I regret that super cute silk maternity tank-top from "Mommies to be" warehouse sale. All I could think of was my blue sweatshirt with the plastic zipper.

Abba and plastic zippers. That's my MRI advice.

(And coincidentally proves that I really can sleep anywhere but my bed at night.)