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Me, Michael, Madonna and an MRI

In the past, laying perfectly still was the hard part of an MRI, not suppressing a smile.


I have learned to play mind games to endure being encased in the noisy tube.


Yesterday, as I was busy making a mental list of my “happy places” I was handed a pair of headphones and asked what type of music I preferred, “classical, jazz…?” Clearly, my COVID coverings weren’t masking my age.


I shook my head, “pop, please.”


He looked amused.


Did I have a favourite era?


That was a no brainer, “the 80’s.”


As I slid into the machine, I could hear the distinctive beats of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.” How was I going to get through this without singing and dancing? I was not allowed to move a muscle. I focused on fact that I knew all the words and not on my happy memories.


Two and half hours (and a lot of Michael Jackson) later, I thought that maybe it was for the best that I hadn’t heard any Madonna. How could keep my poker face while remembering dressing up and lip-synching with my sister?


With four minutes left, the MRI music gods tested me. “Holiday” was my exit song.


I barely held it together; as soon as I was able, I relaxed my face into a goofy grin.


I never thought an MRI would lead me down memory lane, but I appreciated the distraction and continued the 80’s extravaganza on my drive home, singing along at the top of my lungs.








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