Six Doctors

 In 1988, I used to enjoy riding a racing bicycle. One day, I fell hard. I was brought to a hospital.

 Because I had hit my head, I had to get an MRI scan. For the first time in my life, I saw an MRI scanner. It felt like I was in a recording studio that had a fish bowl. The doctor was in the fish bowl, manipulating the MRI scanner. I lay on a movable board.

 It was taking a very long time to get the test done. So I looked at the fish bowl again. There were three doctors in it, and they are arguing very seriously. I started to worry about my condition. I waited for a very long time, anxiously watching the fish bowl again. This time, there were six doctors, and they were almost fighting. I heard some of their words. They said, “There’s nothing we can do about it…”

 That was when I realized I must be dying. The facility was a relatively big general hospital, and its six doctors could do nothing to help me. My condition must be hopelessly bad. I was eighteen years old at the time: too young to die. As I waited for the announcement of my cruel fate, I cried my eyes out.

 A few minutes later, one of the doctors came out of the fish bowl and said,

“We’re sorry about this. The machine was broken. Please wait for more a few minutes.”

 OMG! The MRI machine was broken. Of course, there was nothing the six medical doctors could do about it!

 After a week, I was discharged from the hospital.

Photo by　Zinkevych