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  • They are always running late at Radiology. Always. I call in advance to find out how behind they are. They always tell me that they will be able to take me on time. They never do.

    The tech confirms my weight: "you don't look like, I have to ask," she says with her thick Polish accent. I'm wishing for Ramon, the tech from last time, who announced the length of each view as he took it with "ok Kyla, this one will take 3 minutes." I could plan my breathing, smooth, calm, just deep enough to keep me chilled out without moving.

    This time, it is just my head that will be in the tube - I can keep on my shoes and clothes, and there's no IV and no contrast solution. Still, when I lay down, my head is cushioned, caged, taped, capped with headphones to reduce the noise. I know what to expect, but I can't help but be startled by the "RAAAAAA! RAAAAAA! RAAAAAA!", lulled by the "ticka, ticka, tickaticka", feel assaulted by the "BRRRRR! BRRRRR! BRRRRR!" as the magnets whir and somehow (somehow!) take pictures of my brain.

    I'm not sure I really want to know what's going on in there. The machine just reads the physical landscape of white and gray matter. I wish there was a machine that could read my mind.
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