#Imaging centre

[ramanimaginganddiagnosticcentre]

NABL Certified Diagnostic Centre in Patna: Ensuring Quality Healthcare at Raman Imaging & Diagnostic Centre

When it comes to healthcare, the importance of accurate diagnostics cannot be overstated. Patna residents seeking top-tier diagnostic services need look no further than Raman Imaging & Diagnostic Centre. As a NABL certified diagnostic centre in Patna, we pride ourselves on delivering precise and reliable test results, which form the foundation of effective treatment plans. With a commitment to maintaining the highest quality standards, our facility stands as a beacon of trust in the healthcare community.

Advanced Diagnostic Services and Technology at Raman Imaging & Diagnostic Centre

At Raman Imaging & Diagnostic Centre, our NABL accreditation is more than just a certification — it’s a testament to our dedication to excellence. The National Accreditation Board for Testing and Calibration Laboratories (NABL) is a globally recognized body that ensures the competence of laboratories through rigorous assessment procedures. By achieving NABL certification, our diagnostic centre in Patna guarantees adherence to international standards, ensuring that patients receive the most accurate and dependable results possible.

Our state-of-the-art facility is equipped with the latest technology, including a 3 TESLA MRI machine, which offers advanced applications such as Cartigram, Neuroperfusion, and MRI Enterography, among others. These cutting-edge tools enable our team of experienced doctors and paramedics to perform specialized procedures like FNAC and biopsy with unparalleled precision. Whether it’s a complex Breast MRI, Cardiac MRI, or a Whole Body Diffusion study, our NABL accredited lab ensures that every test is conducted with the utmost care and accuracy.

Furthermore, our expertise extends to non-vascular intervention procedures and advanced imaging studies. Services like MPR Prostate, small joints MRI, and MR Defecography are meticulously handled by our dedicated professionals, making us a leading choice for comprehensive diagnostics in Patna. The combination of advanced technology and skilled personnel allows us to meet the diverse needs of our patients while upholding the highest standards of healthcare.

Why Choosing a NABL Certified Diagnostic Centre Matters to Patients:

Choosing a diagnostic centre is a critical decision that directly impacts your health outcomes. At Raman Imaging & Diagnostic Centre, we understand this responsibility, which is why our NABL certification and advanced services set us apart. But what does this mean for you, the patient?

Conclusion

By selecting Raman Imaging & Diagnostic Centre in Patna, you are choosing a NABL certified diagnostic centre that is committed to delivering precise, reliable, and timely diagnostics. Our NABL accredited lab, equipped with the latest technology and a dedicated team of experts, ensures that every patient receives the highest quality of care. Trust us with your diagnostic needs, and experience in healthcare that prioritizes accuracy and excellence.

[smeagles]

📸: jmfstopimages

[sapphoscreature]

One of my favourite foreshadowing details.

[jugacolours]

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

"What i asked santa for" Ran pls

[sitting-on-me-bum]

A griffon vulture flies off after being released from the Wild Animal Protection Centre at Van Yüzüncü Yıl University, Turkey, where it was being treated for an injury. This is a Eurasian vulture, but London Zoo has fascinating footage of a related species, the Rüppell’s griffon vulture, hatching last March

Photograph: Anadolu Agency/Anadolu/Getty Images

[cleverreports]

We report in the dead of night: there are too many stars. It has been weeks since we saw more than a handful at once. The sky has been overcast and opaque most nights. So it is late, we are in the middle of nowhere, and we think we woke up because there are too many stars.

[megatron-fucks]

megop mr and mrs smith au

is that anything

[agerefandom]

Blitzø Regression Headcanons <3

regression is a trauma trait from Blitzø's early childhood: he had some issues with developmental milestones and his parents often fought about how to handle it

it got a lot more pronounced and disruptive after the fire

will push himself to do stupid things just to prove that he's not actually a kid and he's just "being stupid" (ie. drinking, getting into fights, etc.)

both deeply insecure and dismissive about his regression ("just another way he's fucked up")

easily startled by loud noises

I also headcanon Loona as a regressor: when Blitzø starts taking care of her, he learns better how to take care of himself, but starts feeling like it's twice as important to hide it

loves horse movies, obviously, and also figurines and also drawing them and also talking about them and reading books about them and-

incredibly talkative when comfortable, but shuts down verbally when defensive or nervous

indignant when a caregiver tries to limit his actions to something more age appropriate: "I know how to drive!!!!!! Lemme go!!!"

luckily, he's very easy to redirect with a question, a suggestion, or the slightest bit of affection

one of his favourite things is someone scratching his head between the spikes and horns, he'll be a melted purring mess

imps hold onto their tails when they're kids and Blitzø tends to do it when he's slipping

his art style does not change much, but his writing is even harder to read than usual

[ramanimaginganddiagnosticcentre]

Raman Imaging and Diagnostic Centre is your trusted NABL certified diagnostic centre in Patna, offering world-class healthcare services with state-of-the-art technology. Our expert doctors and dedicated staff ensure accurate diagnostics and compassionate care, putting your health first. Experience the highest standards in healthcare with precision and care you can rely on. Visit@ https://bit.ly/44MJqtp

[piizunn]

ᓄᐦᑕᐃᐧᕀ ᐊᐢᑯᑖᐢᑯᐱᓱᐣ nohtawiy askotâskopison, My Father’s Cradleboard by Morgan Possberg Denne

The New Gallery, November 18 - December 22, 2023

“Cradleboards have been used for thousands of years by our ancestors to carry and love for our future generations. They have protected us, acted as an external womb, and given us a place as children to watch our parents' culture and learn from a safe distance. I’ve always wondered if the fact that neither my father, his father, or myself was ever put in a cradleboard may have had a long term impact on our development, personhood, and our coping mechanisms to the ways that colonialism, residential schools and the foster care system has affected my family.

Now as an adult I deeply wish I could rewind the clock and put myself, and my father before me, and his father before him in a cradleboard as a child. To softly sing songs to us, give us safety, and to give us a connection to our culture in a safe environment. Maybe this would fix things. As kids when we were supposed to be kept safe and playing in the woods we were instead being prepped for the meat factory - the eternal meat grinder of colonialism.

The western world teaches us to push aside this childhood imagining and innocence - “These things can’t be undone!”, but what if they could? In another world somebody took better care of us, in another time we learned to drum and sing and dance, in another place we were listened to by adults who had the capacity to love and care for us.

These hot chest and aching throat feelings, the times of biting back angry tears and saying “It’s fine” have to count for something….right?”

“Morgan Possberg Denne is Two-Spirit millennial scoop and foster care survivor; with settler, Cree, Metis, and Chippewa blood connections. They have grown up in treaty 7 territory, and have relatives in southern and northern Ontario. Morgan creates imaginative, illustrative objects which could be seen as pieces of possible narratives, different ways to connect with the past and potential futures through layers of abstraction with no right or wrong answer. What matters to them is not accurately recreating the past or to predict the future, but rather to capture an inner truth and a possible alternative reality of colonial experiences. In a sense, creating new culture from a series of “what-ifs” and new stories / lore. Their work has been recently shown at the Confederation Centre for the Arts and Gallery Gachet.”

(Photos belong to me and the description and artist bio are courtesy of The New Gallery’s website)

[IDs:

1. a large wall hanging made from fish leather,

2. a close up of the same piece. the artwork has faint text cut out of the green tea tanned fish that reads “hey it’s not your fault, you know that right?”

3. a photo of the space showing a video projected onto several fish skins, a table with a vest and a hat made of fish leather, and on the table are cartons made from rawhide.

4. a coatrack on which are a rawhide hunting ruffle and rawhide fishing net resembling a badminton racket

5. a shelf seen in the background of image 3 containing a astro-turf shirt, a hand gun and pocket knife made from rawhide and a fish leather circular clip with a piece of dark hair hanging off the shelf.]

[cherrywxves]

[princess-lointaine]

centre piece

[lovedetlost]

He will literally marvel at a flower. “The fact that trees are green blows my mind,” Evans says.

[cowboy-heart]

'casting the lead role' - a bit of folk horror weirdness!

heavily inspired by @thesiltverses and the trawlerman <3

(id below cut - i recommend reading the ID on desktop because tumblr dislikes the non-left to right text structure on mobile)

[Images IDs: an original poem titled 'Casting the Lead Role', lineated but alternating between the left and right side of the page. Poem begins:

yesterday they had told me that a fisherman caught not a fish. He had put on his timeworn salty trawler raincoat, pockets heavy with old tissue, and went down to his river. He had trawled his river a thousand times before, caught about every fish imaginable, divvied out to the hungry community but no family. He had no family, nobody able to

stand his foetid flesh, so lived lonely

and yearning except He had his seaweed green eyes. Slimy and deep like a wasted catch, like they were always meant to reflect the water. He had cast his line but this time his fish hook caught and pulled him overboard.

He sank like a rock or an old witch trial and he had kept on sinking. On and In. Every time he thought I must I must be near the bottom now he just plunged further. He did not drown nor drink just looked around at the impossible depths the impossibly large and primordial fish the fish eyes with their silt sunken irises trawling over him and somehow inexplicably he knew all their names like an old nursery rhyme. Bonnerichthys Coelacanth Euthanerops Heliobatis Megapiranha Rebellatrix Lanarkia Palaeodus Titanichthys. The river was not could not be this deep. Surely it could not contain so much. It never once occurred to him to let go of that rod. As his clothes eroded away, it became the last evidence of land He had not always been coral. Medieval bones perfectly preserved by sand and current flocked familiarly favourably like a lost friend into his hair and mouths. Roman pottery penetrated his flesh leaving him coughing up damp terra cotta. The water got blacker and ever saltier he could not even see his crustaceous hands. He finally gave in and looked down-

-and saw the impossible reflection of himself, a cosmic horror smudged and blurred like a child’s first watercolour. Its visage shuddered in tide as it sat on his boat. Seemed to drip like it was melting. But then but then it looked down at him a look of fear and ancient understanding. It backed away as he drew ever nearer, breath fogging the seaglass his gills danced and flapped like a butterfly over a carcrash. His years-empty stomach echoing leviathan groans. It backed and backed away until it fell overboard.

And he broke the surface, gasping onto his creaking, weary boat. He reached his pickled prickled fingers up to touch his gills but only found blood and salt. He had searched for the source of the blood flow, and there he found a crusted fish hook embedded in his cheek. He had pulled the thing out and his crimson flow leaked into the river, drowning his ichthyic reflection like ink as the hungry fish plucked at the balls of clot. He had moored up and went home with just one catch.

There He had found a wife and family eager to greet him, with a hot meal awaiting him. She had unveiled a prehistoric thing with eyes of seaweed green. They had eaten well that night he had hung up and locked up his hookless rod, ignored the salt in his gums. And there Had he gone to bed happy and loved and dry.

Poem ends. In the bottom right corner, the writer is signed as 'Ren H.' End ID].

[sitting-on-me-bum]

A baby seal at the Chene rescue centre in Allouville-Bellefosse, near Le Havre, France. The centre rescues and rehabilitates wildlife in distress. Stranded seals are cared for until they are big enough to be safely released back into the sea.

Photograph: Lou Benoist/AFP/Getty Images