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I was waiting in the little room for her to finish a 30 minute scan, when the technician comes to get me. I have paid attention and up until that moment, the patients returning from a scan would arrive back, ready to go home. I knew something was wrong. I asked him what, and all he could give me was his rank and serial number as a technician. I would have to talk to the doctor. That sealed it. We were in trouble. Nobody refuses to talk, except at congressional hearings, so I figured Shirley must have a whole swarm of ticks in her brain.