Tuesday, July 25, 2006
HELP!!! I'M BACK IN THE EIGHTIES!!!
Yet another first for "Metal Man"!!!!!
After coming back from the morning physio session I settled down to my nice hot meat pie and fruit salad for lunch. ( well the pie was hot, not the fruit salad )
Suddenly, an orderly wandered into our room, with a look of confusion on his face he checked our name tags and wandered out.
This was a new orderly, one I hadn't come across before.
He was a well built sort of chap of about forty with multicoloured arms, or at least that's what I mistook his numerous tattoos to be.
He was also sporting one of the best hair styles I've come across for quite some time.
Really thick hair, set in a position which gave away the years of careful and fastidious sculpting into an Elvis / 50's rocker style, with an 80's twist.
Although it must have at one point resisted, years of training and overpowering had it now positioned in an immovable mass that looked like it could withstand hurricane force winds.
And all this without gel!!!
Amazing......
A few seconds later he reappeared, double checked the name tags and informed me that I was to be taken away for a Magnetic Resonance Imaging scan ( which shall be referred to as MRI ).
This particular orderly was of the first stage and seemed more than happy to chat away merrily about all sort of mindless crap.
Turns out he has had many an argument with the ex undertaker orderly.
It made a nice change I must say, from the usual bitching and moaning.
Having arrived, I was parked in front of a telly and made to endure a rerun of that awful excuse for a television show 'queer eye for the straight guy'.
After cringing at the idiot presenters and nudist victim, I was led into the MRI room.
This room can only be entered by punching a four digit code into a panel on the wall.
I think it was 4489 or 4889.
Anyway, this is where the evil radiographers were going to attempt to destroy Metal Man!!!
After removing all metallic adornments and my glasses I was handed a list.
Classic Rock, Modern Rock, Country, Popular, Blues/Jazz, Relaxation, Classical and the all time favourite Easy Listening.
This was the music they were hoping to lull me into a false sense of security with.
It reminded me of the music channels on aeroplanes in the 80's.
Apparently, when the MRI is in operation it produces quite a lot of noise.
I chose Marvin Gaye to accompany me into battle.
This decision was soon to have major ramifications.
I was then laid on a table and it moved into the MRI scanner, which looks for all intents and purposes like a giant tubular donut. yummmmmm ( I didn't get chance to start my lunch and my brain was playing up, not unusual for me really. It seems to be doing this more and more. )
I was given a pair of headphones with quaint little cloth coverings and noticed that there were no cables but plastic tubes attached.
I was beginning to think I was back on one of those aeroplanes from the 80's.
After being informed that the scan would begin, the music started.
My god! I suddenly realised how they planned to conquer Metal Man.
Not by using super highly charged electro magnets, but with really torturously bad music.
What flowed through the plastic tubes and into my ears was not the soulful, beautliful R&B I knew and loved, but a hideous cacophony of 80's synthesised trumpet keyboard sounds and that really unfunky 80's slap bass.
I realised that along with the 80's music categories and 80's earphones, they were going to inflict upon me a manifestation of that still unexplained phenomenon: the death of funk and soul in the 80's.
You must remember how anyone who used to be in the funk, soul or R&B genres completely lost the plot and produced music rife with awfully crude synthesiser MIDI sounds and arrangements entirely bereft of any musical aesthetics or taste.
This was the time of Stock, Aitken and Waterman.
Filthy, mass produced musical contamination, having the sole purpose of aurally raping the western population.
I was fated to sit through this for about half an hour as I couldn't move during the scan.
The headphones, spewing the agonising music straight into my brain, had to stay.
The only relief was the occasional interjection ( I think she was trying to inform me of the various stages of the scan ) by the operator, .
The only thing I could do was to try to concentrate on the variety of electrical hums, buzzes, bips and tocks, which thankfully were quite loud and helped drown out the music.
It was like standing inside the biggest power plant ever when it's cranked up to the max.
Metal Man had survived.
Mentally exhausted, barely sane, but still kicking.
It take's more than machines using enough electricity to power several suburbs, to activate magnets able to pick up a semi trailer, as well as excruciatingly bad music to take this cat out of circulation.
Back from my electro magnetic session, I headed to physio where I was forced to perform exercises which caused me pain in my left knee, but were apparently necessary according to the physios.
I tried to explain to them that no my knee's not going to seize up, yes I do bend it in the bed in my room but not as quickly, no I don't need no god damned pulley system to help me lift and bend my knee.
They didn't understand that the reason I didn't want to do these exercises was because of the pain and not out of laziness or something.
All I wanted to to do is give a rest for a week or so as the incision is on the side of the knee where the skin pulls and stretches.
I had to really "count to ten" to stop myself from sending my crutches on a field trip across the gym.
I headed back to my room.
At this point, as if on cue, the resident psychologist arrived wanting to know if I would like to have a chat.
I was then able to vent a bit about the physio experience, the whole shittyness of 4+ months in hospital, the anxiety of going back home / to work, the effects of the scars and various other things I care not to mention here.
Afterwards, I procured a slice of pizza ( that didn't require shaving ) from the fridge and had a good comfort munch.
I figured it was better than a cold pie ( everyone knows you can't microwave pies ).
Still, it could be worse.
I could be an ambulance driver in Lebanon getting bombed by the israeli air force.
.
After coming back from the morning physio session I settled down to my nice hot meat pie and fruit salad for lunch. ( well the pie was hot, not the fruit salad )
Suddenly, an orderly wandered into our room, with a look of confusion on his face he checked our name tags and wandered out.
This was a new orderly, one I hadn't come across before.
He was a well built sort of chap of about forty with multicoloured arms, or at least that's what I mistook his numerous tattoos to be.
He was also sporting one of the best hair styles I've come across for quite some time.
Really thick hair, set in a position which gave away the years of careful and fastidious sculpting into an Elvis / 50's rocker style, with an 80's twist.
Although it must have at one point resisted, years of training and overpowering had it now positioned in an immovable mass that looked like it could withstand hurricane force winds.
And all this without gel!!!
Amazing......
A few seconds later he reappeared, double checked the name tags and informed me that I was to be taken away for a Magnetic Resonance Imaging scan ( which shall be referred to as MRI ).
This particular orderly was of the first stage and seemed more than happy to chat away merrily about all sort of mindless crap.
Turns out he has had many an argument with the ex undertaker orderly.
It made a nice change I must say, from the usual bitching and moaning.
Having arrived, I was parked in front of a telly and made to endure a rerun of that awful excuse for a television show 'queer eye for the straight guy'.
After cringing at the idiot presenters and nudist victim, I was led into the MRI room.
This room can only be entered by punching a four digit code into a panel on the wall.
I think it was 4489 or 4889.
Anyway, this is where the evil radiographers were going to attempt to destroy Metal Man!!!
After removing all metallic adornments and my glasses I was handed a list.
Classic Rock, Modern Rock, Country, Popular, Blues/Jazz, Relaxation, Classical and the all time favourite Easy Listening.
This was the music they were hoping to lull me into a false sense of security with.
It reminded me of the music channels on aeroplanes in the 80's.
Apparently, when the MRI is in operation it produces quite a lot of noise.
I chose Marvin Gaye to accompany me into battle.
This decision was soon to have major ramifications.
I was then laid on a table and it moved into the MRI scanner, which looks for all intents and purposes like a giant tubular donut. yummmmmm ( I didn't get chance to start my lunch and my brain was playing up, not unusual for me really. It seems to be doing this more and more. )
I was given a pair of headphones with quaint little cloth coverings and noticed that there were no cables but plastic tubes attached.
I was beginning to think I was back on one of those aeroplanes from the 80's.
After being informed that the scan would begin, the music started.
My god! I suddenly realised how they planned to conquer Metal Man.
Not by using super highly charged electro magnets, but with really torturously bad music.
What flowed through the plastic tubes and into my ears was not the soulful, beautliful R&B I knew and loved, but a hideous cacophony of 80's synthesised trumpet keyboard sounds and that really unfunky 80's slap bass.
I realised that along with the 80's music categories and 80's earphones, they were going to inflict upon me a manifestation of that still unexplained phenomenon: the death of funk and soul in the 80's.
You must remember how anyone who used to be in the funk, soul or R&B genres completely lost the plot and produced music rife with awfully crude synthesiser MIDI sounds and arrangements entirely bereft of any musical aesthetics or taste.
This was the time of Stock, Aitken and Waterman.
Filthy, mass produced musical contamination, having the sole purpose of aurally raping the western population.
I was fated to sit through this for about half an hour as I couldn't move during the scan.
The headphones, spewing the agonising music straight into my brain, had to stay.
The only relief was the occasional interjection ( I think she was trying to inform me of the various stages of the scan ) by the operator, .
The only thing I could do was to try to concentrate on the variety of electrical hums, buzzes, bips and tocks, which thankfully were quite loud and helped drown out the music.
It was like standing inside the biggest power plant ever when it's cranked up to the max.
Metal Man had survived.
Mentally exhausted, barely sane, but still kicking.
It take's more than machines using enough electricity to power several suburbs, to activate magnets able to pick up a semi trailer, as well as excruciatingly bad music to take this cat out of circulation.
Back from my electro magnetic session, I headed to physio where I was forced to perform exercises which caused me pain in my left knee, but were apparently necessary according to the physios.
I tried to explain to them that no my knee's not going to seize up, yes I do bend it in the bed in my room but not as quickly, no I don't need no god damned pulley system to help me lift and bend my knee.
They didn't understand that the reason I didn't want to do these exercises was because of the pain and not out of laziness or something.
All I wanted to to do is give a rest for a week or so as the incision is on the side of the knee where the skin pulls and stretches.
I had to really "count to ten" to stop myself from sending my crutches on a field trip across the gym.
I headed back to my room.
At this point, as if on cue, the resident psychologist arrived wanting to know if I would like to have a chat.
I was then able to vent a bit about the physio experience, the whole shittyness of 4+ months in hospital, the anxiety of going back home / to work, the effects of the scars and various other things I care not to mention here.
Afterwards, I procured a slice of pizza ( that didn't require shaving ) from the fridge and had a good comfort munch.
I figured it was better than a cold pie ( everyone knows you can't microwave pies ).
Still, it could be worse.
I could be an ambulance driver in Lebanon getting bombed by the israeli air force.
.
