...I couldn't do it.
I tried deep breathing.
I tried affirmative, joyful thinking.
I tried pep talking myself.
But in the end, I pushed the panic button and lost it.
Badly.
I felt like an idiot.
The technician and Mr. Jenny kept reassuring me, but I couldn't stop crying.
After all.
I've had MRI's before.
This time was different, though.
The last testing I did was a few years ago and I was pretty calm if I do say so myself.
The technician told me to be totally still and warned me of the clicking and clanking.
She told me to be still, and I was.
Really.
So, I was surprised when after a few seconds she stopped the scan and checked the machine.
"Hmmmm," she said. "Okay, let's start again."
She did.
And stopped again.
And checked the machine again.
"Remember to be still, no motion," she cautioned me sternly. I nodded my head and agreed.
The third time she stopped the machine and literally stomped into the room.
"Are you humming?" she asked in a very mean voice.
"Ummm....yes," I replied meekly. "I'm not moving, though. Really. I am holding very, very still. I'm just humming quietly. You didn't say I couldn't hum."
She glared at me.
It was scary.
"NO HUMMING!" she said. "NO MOVING, NO WIGGLING, AND NO HUMMING!"
"Geez," I apologized meekly. "You didn't say I couldn't hum."
She huffily started the exam again and it went okay.
And I did it.
And it wasn't that bad even though I really, really wanted to hum.
Yesterday, though, I knew NOT to hum.
And I didn't.
But I freaked out and I felt like a complete idiot. When the table slid into the machine my arms and hands were trembling. I felt like I was choking.
"Can you control that shaking?" the technician asked.
"Ummm...no..." I said hesitantly. I didn't want to get yelled at like the humming incident. "That's partly why I'm having these tests."
After the third try and the pushing the panic button, she told me it wasn't going to work.
"I'll try harder," I told her.
"No," she said sternly.
Her face softened when I burst into tears.
"I'll try harder to hold still, really," I said again.
She refused and said it just wasn't going to work without sedation. She did give me Kleenex, though, so I think she wasn't really mad at me.
I'm ashamed to tell you how hard I cried.
I was really, really hoping for answers this week.
I'm not giving up...
There are four more diagnostic tests scheduled this over the next few days, but to be honest with you, I'm exhausted.
Even 'it could be worse' isn't helping right now.
Mr. Jenny took me home and put me to bed and I still couldn't stop crying.
I'm tired of feeling lousy.
I have stuff I want to do.
I'm tired of feeling lousy.
I miss myself.
I'm tired of feeling lousy.
I miss writing.
And laughing.
And humming.
(although possibly not in the MRI machine)
I am reminded, again, of how lonely chronic illness is.
Seriously.
If you know anyone with chronic illness, call them. Text them. Let them know they're not forgotten.
I think we all shy away from that contact because we don't know what to say.
We don't know if we should intrude on someone's pain.
Seriously.
Intrude.
Intrude with no expectations.
Intrude and tell them you're thinking of them.
Intrude and send them a knock-knock joke.
Go ahead and do it right now.
I'll wait.
Seriously.
Chronic illness is not contagious.
Well...perhaps sometimes it is and in those cases be sure not to kiss the sick person on the lips...
But try for a moment to put 'not knowing what to say' aside and say something.
Anything.
And for those people that continue to bless me with caring.
Thank you.
Sincerely.
And tearfully.
And gratefully.
My speaking voice works only sporadically now, so I'm sorry to be so quiet.
But I'm going to get better.
And then I'll talk your ear off.
And, by Heavens, I'm also going to hum like crazy.
And I'm going to make more of an effort to be a pinpoint of light in the overwhelming of an often dark world.
To start being more pinpointed even before I'm mended, though, I'm offering a little piece of advice to all you women getting ready for MRI's. I suspect that kegeling is also forbidden although I, technically, wouldn't confess to trying it during the testing.
Just sayin'.
And...
You're welcome.
Sigh.
Thank you Cyndie. I've stopped crying now. You are a blessing.