Ahhhhh, that dirty little four letter word: MRI. Okay that's only three letters but you catch my drift. If you don't, then you've never had one, have never had to contemplate having one, or are one of those strange alien beings that doesn't see what's so bad about being shoved into a 22-inch diameter metal tube with your head strapped down in a cage while your body listens to the musical styling's of a jackhammer for an hour straight. You don't even get a popcorn intermission or a cigarette break. I don't smoke, but I would take up the habit if it would get me out of an MRI earlier.
I finally did it! (Sort of). I successfully changed my clothes, removed all metal jewlery, let my head be caged in, laid in that damn tube, and had a full blown panic attack and demanded to be pulled out of it 30 minutes into the test. I am so proud of myself!
Hopefully the doctor can tell by the few pictures they got that either a) my car accident did not cause any problematic damage, b) that I am actually a genius akin to Steven Hawking and I have just slipped through the cracks for the past 31 (or is it 32?) years, or c) that he feels bad enough for me that he's just going to let this slide and not require the whole Nikki-can't-do-an-MRI thing to drag on any longer.
Also, Matt Groening is on the top 100 living geniuses of our time list, as published by The Telegraph. That's right, the guy who made "Cowabunga dude!" and "Eat my shorts!" part of our everyday vocabulary is a genius. There is hope for me after all.