Tag Archives: MRI

229. The photographers will snap us…

“Now, we need to make sure that all the points have contact with your skull.  If you look at the screen, you’ll see that most points are showing red at the moment.”

I look at the screen and indeed, on the diagram which represents my skull, there are many, many red spots – a positive plague of red spots.

“Now, when the points have sufficient contact, they go green.  So I’m going to manipulate the points until they have contact.  It is not painful – a bit like having your head massaged.”  And off he goes.

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148. Question Time…

It’s an encouraging sign as to how far we’ve come that, before I had the MRI last week, the technician asked me in all seriousness whether I was a sheet-metal worker. I raised myself up to my full 5 foot one and declared that I wasn’t.

Just out of interest, I’ve looked up the statistics and apparently 9% of sheet metal workers in the UK are women, which is actually more than I’d guessed. They must be pretty brave souls, forging their way in an overwhelmingly male world. I remember with some shame how, forty years ago, I bottled out of doing Physics A-Level when it turned out that I was one of only two girls in the class. It wasn’t that I was hassled in any way; I just felt very, very uncomfortable and – at sixteen – didn’t have the … guts to stick it out.

I nearly used another expression there, but my mother reads this blog. Although, it would have been a particularly apt one.

***

Fred, who I tutor for GCSE English, tells me that they’ve started studying ‘An Inspector Calls’.
“Have you read it yet?” I ask.
“No, but we’ve watched Titanic.”

***

I find myself complaining about having to go all the way to the bathroom to get drinking water, because of our kitchen refit. Then see a trailer for Red Nose Day and feel thoroughly ashamed of myself.