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Mike Redmond's Insides Are OK!
I am, by most measures, a pretty low-key guy.
I don’t fly off the handle, go berserk, whack out, or run around like a chicken with my head cut off. I tend to amble, when I’m not moseying. I can’t remember the last time I shouted, other than at the TV.
Low-key. That’s me.
I’ve been this way for quite a while - ever since I gave up coffee and cigarettes for breakfast - and those who knew me in the old days are often astonished by today’s calmer Mike.
Well, so am I.
I was the other day, anyway.
I was back in the hospital for another MRI. I’ve been getting them at the rate of two a year for the last few years. It’s my doctors’ way of making my life interesting they’re all heart, those doctors - by taking pictures of my interior with which they can conform my suspicion that there really isn’t anything the matter with me, other than my warranty running out a couple of years ago.
Anyway, the other day I was back in the MRI machine. MRI, of course, stands for Mike Redmond Inside. If you’ve never been in one of these things, let me describe it for you: Once there, you know exactly how Sammy Terry felt before he opened his coffin lid to start the monster movies on Channel 4.
Except that instead of creaking hinges, an MRI has, shall we say, somewhat louder noises. Imagine lying with your head next to a man operating a jackhammer, while a tugboat sounds off four inches from your left ear and a locomotive roars past four inches from your right. And remember, you nose is about three inches from the roof.
OK, so there I was, lying there, jackhammer pound-ing, tugboat sounding, locomotive roaring, space rays being shot through my head to get pictures of the cobwebs inside. And that is when I surprised myself with the level of my laid-backness.
I fell asleep.
OK, well, Not asleep asleep. I wasn’t in there sawing logs or anything, although if I had been you couldn’t have heard it anyway. I just sort of dozed off for a few seconds every now and then.
This is unusual for me. I’m not the kind who falls asleep anytime, anyway. Airplanes, for example. I can’t sleep on airplanes. I’m always afraid I’m going to snore, or talk, or drool on the person in the next seat. Nope. I sleep in private or not at all.
But back to the MRI. Was I tired? Not particularly? Drugged? Nope. The only thing I could think of was that I’ve been through this enough times that it has become boring.. You know how it is. You’ve been through one jackhammer-tugboat-locomotive shoot-outerspace-rays-through-you-while-youlie-inside-a-torpedo-tube, you’ve been through them all.
Anyway, I woke up, made the joke I usually make ("I think I had my eyes closed in a couple of them") and went on about my business in my usual relaxed, low-key style. I figured that even if the pictures did show something wrong with me, there wouldn’t be a heck of a lot I could do about it that day, so why worry?
As it turns out, the images showed that I’m ok. My doctor called to report it the next morning. And then I went right back to sleep.
© 2009 Mike Redmond. All Rights Reserved.
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