It's a Scan(dal).


Today I went into London for an MRI scan - apparently they don’t have the technology around our parts - which felt and sounded a bit like I was being 3D-printed; that, or I was being sent through the internet via a dial-up modem: let me know if you find me anywhere.

The reason for the scan was to try and shine more light on my long-term dizziness, though I’m concerned they may also have noticed my tiny, tiny brain in the process. It was a strange experience, though I used the time to meditate, partly as I thought this would make me less likely to move. Thankfully it only took around half an hour, which was pretty bearable as the noise and sensation weren’t exactly conducive to meditation really.

I couldn’t help but think of my dad’s rather extreme visit to Lister Hospital a couple of months ago; a day that started with the police breaking down his door and ended with him being whisked off to Addenbrooke’s by ambulance in the early hours of the morning for emergency brain surgery to drain the bleeding to the brain that just a few hours earlier I’d been told would - let’s be briefly euphemistic - be the end of him. Thankfully he’s now doing very well, but his rapid decline and then miraculous improvement after the doctor said he only had hours to live is an experience I wouldn't want again in a hurry.

I was with him for that whole day (for which he was mostly unconscious) and waited outside the room while he had the brain scan that eventually revealed the nature of his injury; if it weren’t for that scan they wouldn’t have saved him. As I lay with my head in the same machinery today I pictured the 3D image of my dad’s head that the specialist showed me onscreen as he candidly yet methodically went through what I was seeing and what it meant; if it weren’t for the dire circumstances it would have been fascinating, but instead it was pretty grim; thank God for the benefit of retrospect and for extremely powerful magnets too.

Popular posts from this blog

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Image
Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera
Read more

Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.

If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage. I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us. When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it. Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping ce
Read more

Hoo-ray and up She Rises.

So much has happened since my last post in March that this blog risks sounding like an itinerary. The main news is that Hitchin Mostly Comedy will return in the summer at a new venue, the Queen Mother Theatre . The road to this decision was convoluted, though enough fell into place en route to leave me optimistic about this new start. The catalyst was a survey I ran via our mailing list a few months back, in which I asked, "If the club returned in the current climate, with tickets still around £15 (and with similar line-ups), would you still attend?"; the response to which, in simple terms, was a resounding yes. Nearly 250 mailing list subscribers responded in a single week, with around a hundred also taking the option to leave some feedback. And only two people were abusive, which counts as a win when you consider they posted their comments online anonymously. Imagine how many more insults we would have received if the comedy club was a woman. Particularly if she was Diane
Read more