Can I get those in glossy?

So I've been having these really strange headaches lately. Not being prone to headaches, or stress, or any of that modern-day illness stuff it kind of scared me when for the past six weeks they got progressively more common and more localized to the back left part of my head.
Accompanied with random unexplained dizziness I had all kinds of possible scenarios in mind.
I'm neither a hypochondriac nor a worrier and will generally refuse to go to hospital unless I'm in dire straits but after much prodding by my darling and a lovely chat with my father I decided to take the two up on their advice that I should visit a specialist.

We walked into Ramaiiah hospital, the best in Bangalore and only three blocks from our house, and were directed to Radiology and Imaging where we shelled out a mere RS 4,900 (about $110 U.S.) for a full scale MRI of my brain.
It was sweetly obvious that the technicians don't get to play with the imaging machine and it's relative computers when they pounced on me as soon as I announced to reception that I was there for a scan. Vying for a spot in the console room, they piled in one by one, leaving the rest of their waiting patients to continue to do so.
One doctor ushered me like a VIP into a wide circular room, all white, centered with it's mechanic jewel.
I was then strapped into the headgear, stretched out flat on a black pleather bed that smelled a bit like pee but was otherwise quite comfortable, and listened as the machine hummed it's alien music around my ears. I was also treated to a symphony of Hindi movie hits while I waited patiently to find out if there was something growing in my head or if I just needed to start doing yoga again.
After thirty minutes of immobility I had sincere pity for whoever it was that 'couldn't wait' and a real pang of urgent curiosity about the results of my brain scan.
Fortunately, the technician announced that everything looked 'normal' (Me? Normal? Go figure.) but asked us to come back tomorrow to pick up the images of the inside of my head. Yet another fabulously unusual souvenir to remember India by:

-One Iranian husband
-One Indian street dog
-One finally-almost-gone upper lip scar from that first dastardly motorcycle accident
-One scar on my right knee, as yet infused with black silk fibers and very small stones from yet another motorcycle accident
-One procelain front tooth, replaced at the half by a French dentist in South India after that first crash
-One set of full brain scan images

Not your everyday set of souvenirs - and believe me, I've got those lovely beaded silk touristy things too. But somehow, these bizarre memorials to a life lived in India are a million times better.