Within the promised two weeks I presented myself at Hexham hospital for the MRI that would provide some insight into the excitement being generated in my prostate.
A nurse with a clipboard ran through a series of questions to ensure that parts of me would not ricochet around the room when the machine was switched on. I then changed into the standard hospital cloak, designed to let your bum peek out the back for the amusement of hospital workers; but retaining my socks to make absolutely sure that there was zero chance of sartorial elegance.
I have had an MRI before. Half an hour or so of motionless boredom, accompanied by an assortment of very loud beeps and whirrs, designed to keep you awake and on edge
Everybody knows, (or at least everyone that has used Google), that the noise is because of rapid, high-powered electricity switching within gradient coils. But it is annoying.
So it was a pleasant surprise when nurse asked if I would like to listen to music whilst in the MRI.
“What’s the choice” I asked?
“Anything you like, we have Spotify”.
I considered telling her that Tidal has better quality and pays its artists more fairly; but she was in charge of a big dial labeled “intensity control”, so I stayed silent and pondered my options. I could challenge them with something obscure like “the best of Goblincore pre 2020”, or something appropriate like “Rage against the machine”; but I played it safe and chose REM.
“No dancing” she instructed as I slid into the machine. So I didn’t, but I did manage a fairly reasonable rendition of Shiny Happy People, with beep and fizz accompaniment, which helped to pass the time.
Eventually extracted, I was told that, in spite of my singing, they had captured sharp images. I then had to wait to find out what those images revealed.
A week later I was back in the GP’s office for the results. This was to be my first exposure to the intricacies of the prostate cancer scoring system; a system you never want to be involved with and one where the highest score is not the winner.
I expected a printout, or maybe an framed, embossed poster, showing the score from my MRI, but my doctor scribbled it in pencil on the back of a scrap of paper (which I later lost).
The scribble read “PI-RADS score of 4” which indicated a high likelihood that a clinically significant prostate cancer is present.
It also indicated that I needed a biopsy, so that would be next.
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