Urban retreat spa and imaging...

I love the medical testing process.  This is somewhat oversimplified, but when you boil it down to essentials, it goes like this.

Patient: My knee hurts. 

Doctor: You may have cancer. 

Doctor now sends Patient to another facility where Patient then is

1. Told to undress - you know, in case he isn't uncomfortable enough already.
2. Strapped to a table inside a machine for 45 minutes of thundering heartbeat sounds with overlaid slamming noises so loud it requires earplugs.  
3. Handed a panic button.

There's nothing to do but think about whether or not this thing on your leg is cancer.  Can you read? No.  Can you listen to music or a book?  No.  It's just you and your thoughts.  Three hours ago your life was normal.  Now you may have cancer.  Just think on that for FORTY-FIVE minutes with a horror film sound track playing in the background.  Push the panic button if it gets to be too much and you want out.  I wanted to leap from my chair on the side and pound the hell out of that panic button.

"Give that thing to me.  HELLO, I AM PANICKING!  I'M PUSHING THE PANIC BUTTON!"

Seriously, medical testing folks need to get with the spa people.  When I got a facial, they offered me a glass of wine in case I was nervous.  In the background birds were chirping and water was running.  All the lights were dim.  We needed some of that action in the MRI room.

* This is not a commentary on the medical staff or facility where Chris was checked.  They were great.  The doctor who referred him was great.  The process is just... disconcerting.