So, there I am...in a hospital gown, consenting that I don't have any hidden metal objects, and preparing to lay down on an MRI bed. This technician told me the same things as the last MRI technician ...Lie still. This will take about 45 minutes.We'll talk you through it as we go. Are you comfortable? Clearly, the last question was rhetorical, however I wonder if anyone ever says, "...um, hell no?!". Before she laid me down, she asked if there was anything I would like to listen to during the scan. I think I jokingly said, "...got any Black Sabbath?" to which she just blankly looked at me. I said, how about easy listening...and then I was entombed.
The MRI started. It was as loud as I remember it, so loud it's almost creepy. Like at some point the Boeing 727 that you are hearing will brush up against your face. The technician voiced into my head phones that we were going to get started, and she turned on the music. Then, all of the sudden...the infamous jazz clarinet came on...you know who I'm talking about, Kenny G. I thought, okay, I can get through one song. Then, there was another. Trying to mentally catalog what I'd gotten for my 10th birthday to pass the time. No, it wasn't easy listening, it was the Kenny G station. I must have been fidgety, because she stopped the music, and said, "...Katherine, is everything okay?" To which I think I yelled (no, I know I yelled), PLEASE JESUS NO MORE KENNY G...I'd rather listen to Rush Limbaugh!!
When my body deals with pain, it does funny things. After a while, it doesn't even process the level of pain, I just deal. To me, it's just added to the list of things I have to tweak in my daily life. It's one of the toys I have to step over to get to the coffee pot. The pants I turn right side out before I load the washer. It's, unfortunately until I can have further work done, part of me. But, as I was climbing over one of the mandated-Atticus-gates in my house the other day, it got to me. Not sure if it was pain. Not sure if it was stress. Not sure if it was exhaustion. Not sure if I could blame it solely on hormones. Things for a moment caught up, and slightly kicked me in the behind...and good ol' self doubt came knocking...he's as welcome as Kenny G up in here...
Then the craziest thing happened...my phone stopped working. Okay, that's not crazy to many. But, my phone has become my portal to the outside world. Where no one is yelling, "SAY MAP" or asking why we are eating THAT for breakfast. It's my sanctuary, mainly because it's portable, and I'm pretty sure they frown on making toaster strudels while IN bed. I was without. While it was sort of foreign to not to have a predawn check-in with my friend, it was a time when I didn't have to check the weather for no reason. I didn't have to see who posted what on Facebook. I could carry on a conversation, not because I had to, but because I actually wanted to. It was weird but nice to be unplugged. After I sorted out my problem, I realized it sort of jump started me in some weird way...though it was nice to see that I had a few missed calls verifying if I was alive...
The self doubt, the exhaustion, the pain, the hormones...they are all like the girl that crashes the party that no one likes. You're not sure who invited her. You'd think sooner or later you'd just get used to her, but you can't stand her. She's the constant reminder that you could 'do better' or 'don't measure up'. And then about the time you think you can tolerate her...she spills her beer on you and says, "Do you got any Kenny G?!"...and then it's just on.
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