Neuroimaging for the Holidays

Nothing says the Holidays like thoughts of family, and nothing sums up my family quite as well as a trip down neuroimaging lane. For those who know me, they know full well that I have spent most of my twenties in the waiting rooms of trauma units and ICU's. It was my Brother's brain that was under scrutiny, and often times he and his brain left many specialists speechless. He and his brain defied the billion to one odds, but no one could explain why. That lack of explanation made many loose faith in their science, while having the opposite effect on me. The brain and all of its mysteries became my muse.

So in my mind, it is not so far fetched that I would allow myself to be wrapped in a blanket and slid into a MRI when holiday homesickness hits. If it helps us understand how our brains respond to emotions and memory, all the better. That is after all the reason why I made myself a guinea pig first thing this morning. After donning scrubs, peeing in a cup and freeing myself of all metallic objects, I sat clicking away at memory tests. I had grown and inch and lost ten pounds since Tuesday the new scale reported. Not being allowed any coffee or food beforehand seemed like the likely cause of my initial lack of focus, but now news of my McNugget induced weight loss gave me a new distraction.

My right hand practiced my click right, click left at the memory game from hell. If I would name this game it would be "Hell on Earth the Memory Game. " This was a far cry from the memory game I selected for my niece where we spent lunchtime chatting in German and flipping cards of 50 horses that all looked the same to me. No, this memory game was a world away with images from every war zone on the planet. The horsey game was looking pretty good right about now. Of course there was a reason for the gore, that being the need for the sensation of fear/anxiety. No problem there, I thought to myself as I viewed every atrocity the human body could endure. I hoped my fear made my neurons light up like a Christmas tree.

Needless to say they stepped up their atrocity images for the main event in the MRI. No flinching, no squirming, no head moving of any kind for my brain had already endured a seven minute hi-res scan that probably cost them a pretty penny and I was not going to botch my calibration by being wimpy. I tried to simply focus on deep breathing the Oxygen through my nose to calm me. If you think I am overstating the point, try to keep your head completely still while being slid into a clicking, thumping, humming tunnel, that is so fully booked that the researchers get one shot a week. Then hold your head still for an hour as saliva tickles and the horror show from hell flashes before your eyes. Then keep in mind that your eyes are behind the grill of a cage that covers your face. No pressure. Getting in touch with my inner fear wasn't much of a stretch.

The communication with the Dr is done through an intercom when a thumb button press means plow ahead, and a squeeze of a balloon signaled the machine operator to halt. I was told to get "comfortable." I found myself daydreaming about what kind of signal the balloon would emit. It was like the inflation bag on the old school blood pressure cuff. Does it squeak, I thought, but was interrupted by what felt like a boa constrictor on my calf. They had snuck a cuff around my leg. Can they read my sarcastic thoughts, I pondered as the boa eased and the operator mumbled something I was supposed to respond to. He had done such an extensive job of teaching me the ins and outs of earplug placement that he sounded like Charley Brown's teacher.

I mumbled a made up word that was something between a yes and a no and off we went. As the bed slid into the tunnel, a small mirror reflected the researchers in the next room. They seemed to be discussing something very different as smiles were all around. Meanwhile the MRI operator tucked a white blanket so tight that it felt like a straight jacket. I had a momentary flash of Hanibal Lector straight jacket clad, strapped to an upright dolly with a cage on his face. Never thought that I would resemble that scene, but here I was bright and early wrapped, strapped and caged. I think my Brother owes me some McNuggets.

I clicked and clicked and periodically was asked to respond with a thumb click to let the Dr know that I was not freaking out. Or at least not freaking out so much as to botch his study. Low res scans of my neurons were created to see how my brain was lighting up. They would later have a hi tech cut and paste session where my results would be layered on top of each other so show how I responded. When I was pulled from the tunnel and the heart monitor, blood pressure and oxygen tubes were removed, the Dr. looked amazingly serious. The otherwise jovial man suddenly was stone faced. Thinking of course that he had seen something terribly wrong with the looks of my brain, or maybe even worse I had botched the scans? Nope that was just his research "game face" so to give me no feed back. I was asked to slowly sit up and then step down. I seemed to catch the IV tube on every possible surface which left me wincing at the needle that poked the back of my left hand. The IV tube lassoed over and under four machines before I managed to shove the wheeled stand to the ladies room.

Then we ate, hydrated and later clicked away to more gore before I learned the purpose of the research. I also was told that I was a high functioning placebo and that I had great veins. I blushed. I had managed a perfect memory recall on "Hell on Earth the Memory Game." Wow, I managed to remember 100% of the horror that I witnessed. Lucky me. But the charming nature of the entire research staff was so infectious that I was happy to have been a high functioning placebo for them. If I could have recalled more horror for them, I would have. Lets just hope that for my sake that my memory fails me tonight as I sleep.