When Machines Pause

January 9, 2012- Small Stones
emerging by  Teri H Hoover

Dec 15, 2011

 What do we see?

The draining of  color

from grey to white?

Submerging into nothing.

But wait- 

courageous

less grey

Suddenly in the pausing- I escape into a sturdy shade of grey

long enough to breathe

and become the 

Emerging

Just a bit of a heads up... 
If you are at all claustrophobic this blog post should be read in are large room with a great view.

My right shoulder has been bothering me since late August, and physical therapy in September was for naught - most likely because I was not faithful in doing my exercises. Last weeks x-ray (insurance requires that first) showed no breakages.  The next step, an MRI to look at the soft tissue was at 8:15 this morning. I felt all wrong this morning but tried to be brave. Despite a cheery cover-up and fascinating footwear (mismatched bright pink socks) I was not comfortable. As I lay down on that white platform, in that white room, head about to enter that white tube I felt myself losing my grip.  Glancing at the clock- the only thing I could see on the white wall beyond the mound of my feet under a white blanket (even though I was not supposed to cock my head to see it) it said 9:25.  I have done this before- what in the world is the  problem? Half a breath later I was sucked into a noise so overwhelming I could not breathe. The MRI began and I lost it- but could not remember to squeeze the bulb to say I needed help. In an incredible bit of blessing, the noise stopped and gave me back my breath.

The machine paused! ... 

The breaks between the awful cycling of magnets are normal, but they usually do not happen that quickly in an MRI. Closing my eyes, I recomposed my breathing, adding a very low hum of my own-just as the noise began cycling around my body again. On the third cycle I became a bit more relaxed, not at ease, not happy and suddenly I heard the sound of my sewing machine- the repetitive channashing as the needle comes up and prepares its descent into the fabric. This should have been a most frightening image, but I pretended I was at home, humming to myself. Back in my sewing room, with my dog nearby, working on my new quilt.

That got me through that third round. Once I made it through that round the next cycling sound, louder and deeper challenged me to find an ocean.  Pause ... thank God for the pauses.  I don't remember the rest exactly. I do know I had more trouble the deeper sounding the revolutions were.

The little clock on the wall beyond my feet said 10:00 the machine clicked and chinked and I braced myself for the next round but was greeted with the technicians voice, "Are you ready to come out of there?" Oh yes, yes, yes! I thought. I had been concentrating so hard I could not speak.  I fumbled out and a question came to my lips. "Have you ever had an MRI?"  The technician, a slight man with a square head, steadied my standing. His voice behind me and somehow inside my head said, "Yeah, I do all the test runs for new programs and machines; sometimes I am in there for several hours." 

 

I left the imaging center and walked out through the silent hospital doors, into the blessed grey parking lot, covered in blessed cold, colorless, drizzle. Popping the blessed decrepit purple umbrella over my head like magic I walked behind a lovely women in a lavender coat and black stockings.  Heading toward my blessed dirty black car I avoided stepping in most of the puddles. What a blessed, beautiful day! 

Just a note: This is only my second MRI- My first one last year  was for unfounded stomach pains - and I  had absolutely no claustrophobia and remember almost falling asleep. Hopefully there will be no further documentation of MRI 's for me for a while.