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The MRI

The MRI

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Published by Wally Keeler

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Published by: Wally Keeler on Jun 11, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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06/28/2012

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The MRI
October 17, 2003, circa 6:50am while blow-drying my hair after a shower, my right arm collapsed,flopped to my side, dangling like a flaccid penis. The CNS(Central Nervous System) failed to effectcommands to the arm. Paralysis. This earned me a $45.00 ambu-ride to emerg. Paralysis remained for 3hrs. CNS eventually regained majority control in the following few hours, & residual control returnedover days.It was a Transient Ischemic Attack. A blood clot grid-locked in the brain, asphyxiated a nerve thatsensates the right arm. The following functions failed:Writing my signatureHolding coins, soap barsMasturbationTurning door knobsOpening jarsKeyboarding & mousingButtoning a shirtNose-pickingProstate assessingTying a knotThe device is a huge & powerful magnet. Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI). Metal objects must beremoved. People with metal pins in their body are questioned -- some can never go into the machine,nor near the machine. It is in a room within a larger room segregated to a small section of the hospital. Iam asked if I have ever been a welder, or otherwise worked in a job whereby a small bit of metal couldhave been embedded in the eye, which could be ripped out by the magnet. Pacemakers are forbidden.So I am dressed in a thin flannel gown, laid on my back onto a narrow table. A prop is inserted under myknees. As I lay there I begin to feel a surge of anxiety. Plugs are inserted into my ears. Props are placedon either side of my head -- immobilizing it. I am positioned to a cross-haired bull's eye.. The anxietylevel rises. A small cage is pulled down over my head. I can't swallow because my throat is dead dry --anxiety rules. I talk about it with one of the two technicians. I ask for water. She brings some. I lay thereimmobile; take two sips, take a deep breath and say "
OK 
".The tray on which I lay slowly smoothly inserts me into the machine, into a featureless chamber. Thereis breathing space, only. Panic is suppressed. My throat remains moist. I continue to swallow. Good. Awoman's disembodied voice advises that a session will begin for a minute's duration. A thumping sound begins. There are no bodily sensations other than the thumping noise.The longest minute passes.The disembodied voice said I did good, It will be 3 or 4 more minutes before the next session begins.Then the voice says the next session will be 4-5 minutes duration. The tray nudges my body a fewcentimetres, then a new noise begins, and begins and begins and goes on goes on goes on goes on & on& on... There is a small mirror I can look into to see the two female technicians behind glass in another room fondling dials.More long minutes pass. A voice says another session of two minutes will begin. And a third unique pounding noise begins. This was endured. Endured.More long minutes pass. A voice announces another session 4 minutes long is about to commence.There were 4 beats of one pounding followed by 4 beats of a different level of pounding and so it’srepeated over and over again and again. At the end of the session, I twitched. I was seconds from pressing the panic button I had been handed. I felt suffocated. The tray moved. I was withdrawn fromthe machine. I sat on the table for a few moments to regain my composure. My forehead was soaked.My thighs, which had been clenched together, were sweatwet. I got off the table and took moremoments to look into the chamber where my body had been. I was rattled. My hands trembled, even as Icivied-up to go home. I was rattled.That is the literal description.. . .
 
This is the poetic description:I guarantee it in writing,sign my name,I, Wally Keeler,in the 56th year of diminishing virility,hereby declareto be metal-freeneither microchip nor nano-entitylurk subcutaneous;I am 100% human male,vulnerableto everything.Laid out on a trayI am inserted head-firstand dry-throated anxiousinto the magnetic cylinder head-first up a techno logical vaginaa bloodless lustless vaginaI am a dildo for diagnosis by a bland gland
Don't even dream of moving your eyeballs,they will blur the imaging.
I'm instructed to be stillto play deadto lay like an autopsy cadaver inside a bloodless vaginaand comesthe thrusting noisethe rhythmic pounding pulseimaging my brainin molecular slicesdigitizing itinto a multi-binary portraitMagnetscompellingly attractivemagnetsline the bloodless vaginacompellingly attractiveas the bloody real illogical thingthe pleasure pursuit of mensending nation onto nationto pleasure possessSo I am inserted into the machinewith the smooth graceof a dismissive gesture,yet its power to picturemy brain excludesthe weeping warm vaginasof the women I have known --for themthe secretions of softwarethat initiate poetry programs.

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