Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong

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This was a morning of eXtreme confusion.

At about 9:30, my tech came in and said "Everything's going to go really fast now." Dude, he was not kidding. He set about scrubbing my head roughly with acetone (aaagh! the smell!), and kept up a rapid-fire list of instructions - where to go, what to do, who to ask for, what to tell them. They were trying to get me in for an MRI and the ambulatory EEG, which meant I had to be ready NOW and they had to super-rush me through everything.

He peeled off the last of the big chunks and told me to take a shower no to get all the gunk out, because if they could get me in for an MRI, it would be in about half an hour. I paged the nurse to take my IV port out. She didn't come. The tech went to tell her. She didn't come. Finally, another tech heard my plight and pretty much dragged the daft bitch to my room, where she proceeded to sulk about actually having to do her job. Pfft.

IV port out. Shower! I was just working the bigger chunks of glue out, pre-shampoo, just water, when my mom knocked on the door - the MRI people were there! Shit!

"I need like 0 more minutes to get this crap out of my hair!"

"Well, do your best."

I said fuckit to the shampooing, and just hopped out and got dressed. And waited for the MRI person to return from her wanderings. And went forth to get an MRI.

I was petrified of my first MRI. I mean, they lock your head in a cage. But this time I was actually pretty blase about it, largely because medical tests are old hat by now, partly because this was the last hurdle to getting the hell out of this hospital.

Finished the MRI, was wheeled back upstairs - where I encountered mass confusion about the ambulatory EEG. They had a device for me, they didn't have a device for me, I should go by 12 - no, I should go at 1 -

And I called a halt.

I have been very, very calm and patient through this whole thing. Very much so. If you don't believe me, ask Spooky and Adam.

But I reached The Point Of Too Much. And inside, I reverted to the child-self. "No. I'm going home."

Tech: But they could maybe do it at 12 or maybe 1 (but maybe not at all) and if I talk to this person -

"No. I'm going home. I'm going to go home and wash my hair and open my mail and, and - I am going home now. I will call for an appointment."

Mom and Dad: Are you sure you don't want to just walk over and do this?

I'm sure.

I need a break.

They accepted that. So I'm home. I washed my hair - it's still wrecked, but it'll take a while to recover. I put my clothes away. I snuggled the cats. I'm home.
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