I wasn't dreading it, but I didn't expect to actually enjoy it. Of course I wasn't crazy about the two IV's I had to get stuck with first, and I got a little nervous when they told me about the drug that could make my heart race and cause shortness of breath--you know--like a workout with no work. And dye? Surely that couldn't be good. But it was a package deal. I didn't get to pick and choose.
I did, however, get to choose what music I wanted to hear during the procedure. I picked "classical."
I knew what the tube would look like, and that some people panicked when they were inside, but I wasn't anticipating any trouble with that. As soon as I saw the clean white sheets and stacked pillows, I knew I was going to be okay. Oh, yeah. One arranged under my knees, just so. One bunched up a little more under my neck...Yes, very nice. You mean all I have to do is lie perfectly still, with my arms by my sides and listen to beautiful music piped in through these fine headphones? Can do!
I had to take a few practice breaths, then try holding my breath on command, just to see if I could. No problem. Just as I was beginning to wish the whole thing could last longer than an hour, the cameras started whirring. Yes, they whirred. And sounded like air raid sirens. So much for falling asleep. I just let my mind wander.
I looked down at my feet, and the door and window that I could see beyond them. I bet I can draw the view from in here! I told myself. Then I started thinking that even with those noisy cameras, there were worse places I could choose to be. But why would I? Then, suddenly...
Missy! I felt my sister, Melissa, all around me. I sensed her voice inside of me--her calm, beautiful voice--saying "Don't worry, Silly. It's going to be all right." Even though she was my baby sister, she often told me that, and I always believed her. I felt tears coming, but they were happy tears because she was there. I stopped myself, though, because I didn't want to start coughing and blow the test. I knew she was proud of me for doing that. She never was one for crying.
The MRI ended and my day continued with tests and tests and more tests. And at the end of the day, the news I got was less than what I had hoped for. But I'm going to try to remember what Missy said. Because whatever happens, whatever is coming, it's going to be all right. It always is. Thanks, Missy. I love knowing you're still there.
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