My head was tied with a tight band to secure me on the cold table. There was the background rhythmic hum, attempting to relax the helpless victim who was like a vegetable. I was slowly being pushed inside the white tunnel to worsen my claustrophobia. Then the noise started to emanate from the coils surrounding my fragile body.
The first sound was like a heavy metal bass guitar, being plucked incessantly by a mad junkie guitarist who was in cold turkey.He was probably a sadistic person, as he was all out to blast my ear drums and fry my cold brain.He was venting all his fury on my helpless soul. This ordeal was followed by a trash metal chord,which was shrill and totally lacked rhythm.It used to come and go like a noisy goods train. US army used to play trash metal music to drive out the militants from the caves.
Noise can torture you, especially loud one.
A few minutes of silence punctuated my agony.
Next was the light machine gun artillery fire which really reminded me of a war zone in Iraq. I could imagine the terrorists running for cover.But that was not the end. This was followed by the heavy machine gun fire which jolted me, but I could not move my fear paralysed body in the narrow tunnel.My captors just ordered me to be still in a stern voice. They said that in a few minutes, my protracted ordeal would be over.
I was not a militant or terrorist. Yet, I was being punished by them. My family outside the room was mute and willing witness to this method of madness.
I was set free after half an hour, I rushed out like a bird from a cage would and immediately hugged my worried daughter. I expected a bouquet, pretending to be a war hero.
My MRI scan was over.
Thank God!
I experienced what my patients usually go through, day in and out.
It was like a War Zone !
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