I dropped my little's at my friend's house. Got in the minivan and sped down the road. I sat in the waiting room with my white, cotton, open in the back hospital gown. I waited impatiently to be taken back. I felt a huge guilt making my friend watch my kids. I really, really wanted them to hurry this thing up. It was my fourth MRI in four years. I knew the drill. It would take about 20 minutes once I was in. Come on, come on...I kept thinking.
And then it hit. There was a magazine on the table. I heard myself breathe. I heard everything. The buzzing of the machine. Opening of doors. It was eerily quiet. I sat back in the chair. I changed my tune. I started thinking, "take your time, take your time."
It was finally my turn. She slid my body into the claustrophobic intensely nerve wracking tube. The tube in which you could not escape. I laughed out loud. I was in heaven. I was stuck on my back. I couldn't move. Not even budge. They reminded me that I had to be as still as possible. I lay there. Quietly. Peacefully. Heavenly. The loud pounding noise from the machine pulsated my body. I felt relaxed. Minute after minute. I was hoping it wouldn't end. Finally she announced from the speaker, "this is your last one." "it will be four minutes."
I felt like crying. I only had four minutes left! It wasn't enough.
I was escorted to the locker room and put my clothes back on. My insurance paid 20 minute visit to the MRI spa was over.
I walked my depressed self back to wait for the doctor to give me the results. The nurse came in to see how I did. I admitted that it was the best 20 minutes of my week. She burst out laughing. "You've got to be kidding," she replied. "Everybody hates those things."
I responded.
"With all due respect, if anybody hates those things...it's because they don't have enough kids."
That was AMAZING!
