I knew I'd have a hard time being still for the MRIs. I knew the noise might bug me. SO I took some extra klonopin.
I was not prepared though to be freaked out because I felt tied down. It wasn't claustrophobia, only my foot was contained, it was PTSD. Again. My partner in life these days.
I also was prepared for what was pictured, this nice chair thing with lots of pillows that let you read. Granted, the tech I had was very unfriendly and probably could have gotten me comfortable, but instead I was left laying on my back holding a book over my head with one arm and the other arm behind my head to serve as a pillow.
I'm not going to say much about the experience because my interactions with the tech and her impatience with my saying having my ankle shoved into the exact position I've spent seven months being forced out of hurt, or her refusal to understand I can't say one thing hurts more as my ankle hurts only sometimes yet is severely injured and my foot hurts most of the time but is just (hopefully) inflamed. Or that she seemed angry that I wiggled during one picture. I wanted to shove her into some position that is painful for her (bending my good ankle in for the 45 minutes required would be fine. It's the stretching the torn ligaments in the other ankle that hurt and she didn't understand that, making her very odd to be doing what she does). My wiggle was a muscle spasm, and I didn't move at all during the time she had my other heel pressed so hard into something that it bruised.
Nonetheless I'm sleepy from my meds and yet I'm irritated. I hate healthcare people who don't introduce themselves. IT's a huge pet peeve, and then triggering PTSD which of course she didn't know happened makes me even less patient.
And now I need to go into my still wet basement and get my sheets in the dryer before I fall asleep without them. I ams oooooooooooo tired.........