So once upon a time (okay a couple of days ago) a person with a mild case of claustrophobia had to go through an MRI. Personnel at the hospital failed to reassure her. The MRI operator told her he couldn’t stand the thing himself without tranquilizers. So with the help of all this comforting and her own writer’s imagination, she swallowed a couple of pills before entering hell on earth, that dark, airless tunnel that would attack her from all sides. The day came, the moment. A half-spheric glass shape was placed above her head. Great. Now, she looked like a robot. A button was pushed and she glided into a tube, the tube. And then, what? It stopped and she could actually see the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. And there was plenty of air circulating around her. She said: “That’s it? That’s what I am supposed to be afraid of? That’s why I got myself spaced out for?”
P..S. Okay, Mr MRI has some sort of temper and makes funny noises, some actually sounding like machine guns, so I would recommend MRI’s to crime fiction authors mostly, and only if they are not on vacation at the moment.
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