MRI

(FYI: MRI results tomorrow, I wrote this post last week on the day of my MRI)

MRI

Here I am waiting for my MRI.  I've started to despise coming to this hospital.  As the frequency widens my dislike seems to increase.

The institution. The bright lights.  The beige floors.  The hospital-ness of it all.  I want to run away.

Funny thing when I first started coming here daily for my radiation treatments I liked it.  It was a break, oh the much needed break I had needed for months-- a break from mothering. 

And it felt reminiscent of working on campus at the cancer center research lab as a biochemistry university student.  I pretended this was my new job and as I navigated the building for treatment and various follow up I felt young and free, I suppose.  A strange freedom, perhaps a coping mechanism.

Humph.

And as I enter the MRI scanner tube prepared to be still, hoping this post nasal drip from my cold won't be too bothersome.  Strangely, I feel peace.  It's stillness and I sing "oh God you are my God and I will ever praise you..." In my head, a song by Rich Mullens that somehow became the song I would sing in my head when I used to do yoga.  In the backdrop is the clunking of the machine.  It’s seemingly speaking: "dup dup dup." "Meek Merk Merk." Whhiirr, whhiirr.". And I find stillness within. My body is still, but my heart has also found rest. 

I envision Hawaii.  I chuckle. In preparing for the birth of my first child I had planned to envision the serene ocean and the rhythmic waves during labor (we even had relaxing ocean waves playing in the background).  Envisioning Hawaiian beaches did NOTHING to help alleviate and manage my labor pain; but, picturing those beaches today does wonders to relax me into my MRI experience.

I envision I’m at Luna float.  Luna float is a business recently opened in my neighborhood.  You pay around $100 for an hour and a half of floating in a hyper-salt saturated tub.  I don’t anticipate I’ll ever go, but I see the value: forced relaxation.  I pretend my MRI tube is a Luna Float tub.  I mellow. 

I pray. 

I relax.

I relax and remember the fear that used to overcome my mind surrounding MRIs; the fear of all the “ifs” and the wondering, oh the agonizing wondering. In that fear there was no peace.  In that fear I tried to pray; but I was gripped.  To think of Hawaii and Luna Float, well that would have been laughable.

But not today.

 Why? Because I am choosing to believe that it will be okay.  That no matter what the doc says next week, it will be okay.

I'm choosing to make the most of my 40 minutes of necessitated stillness.

And I emerge

Renewed.   

And yet the first thought in my head is: the tech wasn't very chipper as she helped me out, maybe there's bad news. (I've had various encounters before, it means nothing....)  I tell this thought to shut up.

I choose to enjoy this sunny day I've been given.  No, I'm not going to hang around the hospital any more than I need to, but I am going to keep looking up. Always.