CT Kidney Scan

They take the metal from you, pants and clips,
And anything they think might interfere,
Then water — drink a litre, free and clear —
While IV needles threaten; come to grips
With the indignities, the bandage strips
Across the failed attempts, the gown, the gear,
The forced jokes and the overdone sad cheer,
The hour spent in the corridor. Time slips.

You're laid down on a table, hard and cold,
Now on your stomach, and now on your butt,
A pre-recorded voice (the doors are shut,
You are alone) commands. Do as you're told:
Turn over, roll back. (Never become old.)
Wait through this, and soon they'll inform you — what?