Last night I had an MRI.
Now, in and of itself, an MRI is no big deal. I mean, it isn't painful. It isn't scary (unless you're claustrophobic). It doesn't require any special skills to complete.
But - suppose you're suffering from vertigo and partial deafness. Then, for good measure, throw in a nasty cough. Now, imagine someone asks you to lie flat on your back, perfectly still, for about an hour. Lying flat on your back makes you nauseous, but okay, you can do it. Then imagine they start blasting noises at you - not sure why an MRI has to be so noisy, but it is. Well, the noises will of course hurt that poor deaf ear of yours. And then, the noises will rattle your body a bit, triggering a vibration in your throat and causing a desperate need to cough. But if you cough, they have to start over.
So let's just say, if this were you, you'd be glad to get it over with.
I staggered home last night, post-MRI, gulped down some anti-nausea meds, and basically collapsed.
The good news is, I brought the disc of images from the MRI to the ENT this morning, and there is no sign of a tumor there. So that's one possibility ruled out.
Which leaves us with the virus, and the shots in the ear.
Shot #3 is tomorrow, and the final shot will be on Monday. Keep your fingers crossed that it starts to work, as I'm still not quite sure what happens if it doesn't. At some point, I suppose, the State Department doctors will stuff some cotton in my ear and shove me back on a plane bound for Beijing, with or without my hearing. But who knows? I imagine right now cables are being sent between DC, Beijing and HK, as somebody somewhere tries to find a solution that will get me back to my family.
There's at least some comfort in that thought.