When I was a kid, my mom put a lot of effort into teaching and reminding us to cut up our food into small pieces to make cooking less likely.
I don’t know if this story is true, but she would always reference how a relative of hers had gotten steak stuck in his throat, couldn’t communicate that, and died in the middle of the dining room seating, surrounded by relatives I guess just thought he was being quiet.
(And that’s why you always leave a note)
Hey, I’m ~40 and this is that I do, too! Plus work.
I thought it was a paper bag to disguise whether she was.
Hopefully they don’t need to do an MRI of my spine after they operate on it - apparently for their sake, not mine.
I think, as someone else said, things installed into the body are usually titanium and thus non ferrous. Fortunately they don’t generally cause issues with MRIs as a result.
(I only know this because when I broke my ankle, during the pre-surgery interview, I asked the surgeon about going through metal scanners at an airport.)
I am prepared for impending friendship.
I don’t recall where I originally read the joke but I spent years - unsuccessfully - trying to find it again. The version I read followed it up with something like “hard as a rock, dumb as a brick.”
You are the only other person I’ve encountered who knows of this joke, so I now declare us friends.
I soon expect to have screws implanted in my spine. I also have other infirmities. I hope like hell to never have screws ripped through my vertebrae by an MRI.
Good morning!
Hey, what’s your middle name?
I’m not certain, but I suspect that I’m older than you.
I only mentioned it because there’s a part wherein one of the protagonists mentions going outside involving a gas mask. Seemed relevant.
Have you ever heard of / read House of Stairs by William Sleator?
Truly. I can’t imagine the guilt.