MRI

Thank God for the Recession

Almost 4 months after surgery, my knee has still not recovered. I managed to convince the surgeon to order a further examination to see what’s going on. How naive I am: I was not aware of the bureaucracy involved. The surgeon actually ordered his intern to write me a note to take to my family doctor, who then prepared me a referral to take to my medical insurance, who would then need to approve the procedure and give me a written undertaking, addressed to the MRI people, that they would pay for the treatment. It’s a good thing there is a recession on and no pressure at work, otherwise I am not sure how I would have enough time to run around town on a bad leg getting all this paperwork done…

MRI scans are very expensive. That’s why the equipment is in operation 24 hours a day and why my second MRI appointment was scheduled for just after midnight: at 00.20 to be exact. I left home late at night to catch a cab to the hospital. I was overcome with excitement: I felt like I was overseas, in a different time zone, racing to the airport to meet an intercontinental flight. The travel bug hit me so hard I almost yelped. And it put me in such a good mood that I instinctively started planning my next trip.

The Waiting Room

I arrived at the hospital. Wandering though the hospital corridors I glanced at the many people sprawled out, sleeping on benches covered with hospital issue blankets. I followed the signs to the MRI department. They led outside the building to a waiting bus. This is a mobile MRI unit. The equipment, installed in the bus, travels around the country. Tonight it was servicing Jerusalem. The bus was parked beside a small building in which were were two secretaries and a waiting room full of exhausted, depressed looking people. "Can I trust you with these?" I asked the secretaries with a cautious smile as I handed them my medical documents. The secretaries saw I was being silly and giggled. I went back to the waiting area but there were no chairs available. Someone looked up at me, nervous about their impending procedure. "Why is everyone so down?" I asked. "Just pretend you are on vacation, at an airport waiting in transit for your flight home". My comment managed to elicit a few smiles. Peeking into a side room I found a chair. It was in front of a computer that was busy printing out scan results. A game of solitaire, half in progress, looked back at me on the computer monitor. It crossed my mind that had I been overseas, I would not have entered the room nor taken the chair to sit on. But I am in Israel. Not only did I sit in the chair, I started a new game of solitaire. When a staff member saw me, instead of ordering out of the room she wished me luck in the game. Halfway through my third game the secretaries called me over to sign some disclaimer forms. Two seats had become available in front of them and I sat on one while making as much light talk as I could. The atmosphere became quite jovial.

A Pleasant Distraction

A very pretty woman, in her late 20s, walked into the waiting room. She gave her name. After checking the patient list, one of the staff said "You're appointment was scheduled for last night. You missed it". The young woman was beside herself. "That can't be! Your office called me this morning to confirm the appointment! I have been waiting to this for three months! Is there no way that you can slip me in?” The secretaries were blank faced and pointed to the waiting room packed with people. An embarrassed silence followed. I looked up at the girl and said "Listen, you need to take what you can get. What you can get at the moment is the seat next to me. Now sit down." The girl considered her options before seating herself beside me. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you getting scanned?" I asked apprehensively. "My neck, suspected slipped disc" she responded. Having established a friendly relationship with the staff I decided to put it to good use. I looked at the secretaries pointedly. "Listen, the poor girl has missed her appointment. She needs to have her neck scanned. I am having my knee scanned. It's a big machine, after all. Why not scan us both at the same time?" Everyone either laughed or snickered. "We will see what we can do" they responded playfully, and scheduled a scan for the girl.

Looking back at everyone in the waiting room I realised that I had another hour to wait before my scan. How could I use the time? As it happens, my cell phone provider has a deal whereby its Muslim customers can avail themselves of 2000 minutes free conversation after 9:30 p.m. during the month of Ramadan, which is to end in another two weeks. I had read about it on the Internet and decided to try and register. Unbelievably, my registration was accepted. The scans were running an hour behind schedule and 12:30 a.m. was the perfect time to make use of my free calls. I telephoned a close friend on the other side of the country and we chatted for an hour until I was called in for my scan.

The Scan

"Come with me" instructed one of the secretaries and I finished my call. I picked up my bag and made a face to those still waiting. "Wish me luck, don't be afraid, but if I am not out in half an hour then call the police". Everyone smiled as a secretary led me out of the building to the bus. (It just struck me; were they smiling because I was being removed?). I entered the bus and was asked to remove all metallic objects from my person. I struggled to take off my belt with its huge buckle. "What's your name" I asked the Russian woman who told me to lie down on the stretcher that led into the MRI tunnel. "Dr Slavin" she said with a condescending air. The doctor placed noise canceling headphones over my ears and rolled me into the tunnel. "Don't move!" she ordered and I obeyed her intently.

It is in my interest for the scan to go well. Apart from anything else, each scan costs 5000 shekels and if I was to disqualify the results by moving my leg around, I'm not sure that my insurance company would be happy to pay for a second scan. On the other hand, I thought to myself, they could have saved some money in the first place by instead offering me a 3000 sheqel cash payout. That would cover a vacation to Turkey which, who knows, might be all that is necessary to make my leg better!

The machine rocked and rumbled as it infused my body with magnetic fields. The machine’s groaning was deafening. Finally the doctor returned and rolled me out of the tunnel. She was a difficult nut to crack, but I needed to get a smile out of her before I left. "So, was I a good boy, did I move?". She smirked. "You were a good boy, it all went well". "Let me also ask, then, does the technician watch the scan on the screen as it is taking place? If so, is he able to confirm at this stage that I am not pregnant?” A full-blown laugh came out of the doctor and I knew I had won. "Don't worry, you are not pregnant my friend" she said and I gave her a powerful look of relief.

New Friends

I returned to the waiting room where the scan results would eventually be given to me on disk. The pretty woman was led out to the bus. One of the secretaries, heavily pregnant, began asking me personal questions. She was originally from Russia and we had apparently immigrated to Israel in the same year, although she was a small girl then. She, of course, wanted to know about my social life. In the end however, she spent most of the time telling me how difficult it is being married. Indeed.

I looked at my watch. 2:30 a.m. "I really must go to bed. Goodnight everybody" I said blowing a kiss to the other, elderly secretary. She blushed and everyone giggled. This was one patient that they would not forget for some time. By this stage the pretty woman had also finished her scan and she caught up with me as I headed for the door. "Are you headed in my direction? Can I offer you a lift ?" We drove very slowly in her car out of the parking lot. "So where are you from?" She asked me. "Oh my God, Melbourne, really? I spent six months there! I love it there! Why in hell would you move to Israel? So what do you do for a living?" She steered the conversation intimately. Glancing at what looked like an enormous diamond engagement ring on the beautiful, elegant fingers of her right hand, I wondered what it all meant. I knew that the moment of decision, that turns up in every such situation, was rapidly approaching. Do I engineer further contact, an option which was apparently being dangled before me? "You can drop me off on the next corner just before you turn left, no need for you to go out of your way". With what may or may not have been a moment's hesitation, she slowed down the car and let me out. "Feel better and have a wonderful New Year" I wished her and she returned the sentiment.

Standing as tall as I could, I slung my pack over my shoulder and started walking away. A stab of pain struck my knee, as if to remind me the real purpose of my expedition this evening.

Another one bites the dust.