I had the occasion a couple of weeks ago to have an MRI done on my neck.

I’d been having severe pain and tingling in my neck and right shoulder and my doctor decided to have the procedure done to find out what was going on.

MRI, for the uninitiated, stands for “magnetic resonance imaging,” a process where the body is pelted with magnetic waves to give the technician and the radiologist who reads it, a clear image of what’s inside.

This MRI was not my first. I’ve had MRIs of my left and right shoulders, back and my head. The one of my head confirmed what my fifth-grade teacher claimed was there a long time ago — nothing.

But this tale is not about the photogenic quality of my bones and joints; it’s the experience one goes through.

The term “MRI” at first means very little until you get into the room and see this massive machine with this narrow, hollow center. If you’re claustrophobic, that ain’t for you, but even if you’re not afraid of confined spaces, that machine is enough to give you second thoughts about climbing on board, stretching out on that little table and going in the hole.

And going into that hole is my problem. Considering some of the places I’ve been over the years, I’ve had to maneuver in some pretty tight spaces, and I’ll tell you right now there are few places tighter than the engine room of a Navy frigate. But it’s not the tight space that bothers me; it’s a phobia I have about something (or somebody) getting right (close) in my face, and when you get inside that tube, my nose — to me — is almost touching the top of the tube, not too mention the snug fit inside that thing.

My preparation for such an encounter is deep breathing and relaxation exercises and a little medicinal assistance.

But an open MRI is different. It’s not a tube for one thing, and the sight of it helps you relax a little. I still have the face phobia, but even that fear is lessened somewhat by the openness, although I still go through the traditional customs beforehand.

This last MRI was definitely a pleasure. The tech was nice and friendly, and when I saw the machine, which looked like one of those rock formations out west that I’ve seen in the travelogues, it just helped me feel relaxed. And so, calmed by the tech and the vision of the machine and with my preliminary work done, I laid back, asked for small wash cloth to be placed over my eyes (ever the ninny) I relaxed and let the clicks and vibrations and other sounds of modern medicine keep me calm.

The MRI experience is a curious one, because just the thought of having one can bring out all kinds of emotions and phobias that even the toughest of us never knew we had. In the end, it’s another part of the human experience.

John Surratt is a staff writer for The Vicksburg Post. You may reach him at john.surratt@vicksburgpost.com