You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Sometimes these blog posts write themselves

Not 10 minutes after telling my brain that I hated it for the annoying and weird mental streams that run through my head on a daily basis that I received a little postcard in my office mailbox.

Here's what it said:


 (X-ray picture of head)


blah, blah, blah something about being healthy and 16 - 60
you may be eligible for a MRI study
a stipend is offered

A stipend?  MRI?  Brain imaging?


I haven't had an MRI since I was seventeen and knocked myself out skiing at Mt. LaCrosse (true story but I don't remember most of it)  Just the part about the ground coming up to my face REALLY fast and then....uh...  not much.  I woke up in the ambulance and thought two things.

Wow, look at all this shit in here!  Is this a spaceship?


Oh shit!  My parents are going to get a bill for this ride!

I was wrong on the first thought.
Right on the second.

My friend later told me that I was sort of arguing with ski patrol about going in an ambulance, not because I didn't want to go into the ambulance, but that my parents were going to be pissed about how much it frickin' costs to take an ambulance ride to the hospital that was a few miles away.  But then I passed out again and couldn't win my argument. Damn brain injuries!

Wait, what was I talking about?

Oh yeah, MRIs.  Since I don't remember my last one, I thought it would be cool to have another.  Maybe they'll give me a souvenir photo!  Maybe they'll take one look at the scan and lock me in the rubber room.

So of course I call the number on the card.

Unfortunately I get a voice mail with information on the study.

"Hi, you've reached the White Matter clinic...blah, blah..."

ME: White Matter?  Awesome band name.

"blah, blah, $100 stipend.. blah, blah"

ME: 100 dollars?  Sweet.  I can buy some more wine at Surdyk's wine sale.

"blah, blah, bloo, interview, scan, cognitive memory test, three visits on campus...blah, blee, bloo, blah."

"please leave your name and number and blah, blah."

I leave a message and concentrate on sounding as normal and non-crazy as possible.

Stay tuned....


Laura said...

I hope this isn't like a "modeling job." You know- where you show up and suddenly your blouse is off and you're "making love" to the camera. Wait, that's exactly how my last MRI was. Nevermind.

Melinda Braun said...

I don't know! They haven't called me back yet. Maybe they're trying to filter through the "crazy".