I took a test today.
I failed a test today.
I really thought I could pass this test too.
I mean, I took the evening appointment in the hopes I would be too tired to remember what kind of test I was taking.
After signing in and being taken to the back waiting room, I was asked to take off my bra, earrings and jeans. Other than the fact that I had to watch where I stepped now that my bra was off and I was in scrubs four sizes too big, I still felt like I would be fine.
The male technician escorted me into a room I had been in before.....I room where I had passed the same kind of test before. But this time was different......my senses were on high alert and I could feel the panic before I ever climbed onto the table. A table, I might add that was made for skinnier people than myself.
I was beginning to think that MRI stood for Mental Resistance to Inclining while being shoved in a tube.
First they made me comfortable. A pillow for my head. A pillow under my knees. And then.........
a metal cage that was LOCKED into place over my hips. The high point to this was the fact that when the tech felt around my pelvis to see where to put the cage, he found my hip bones. I didn't even know those suckers were still there. I haven't seen or felt them in a long time.
But I digress.
At this point, the table was elevated and I could see the tube that was going to be about three inches above my face as my destination. I was given a blindfold as if I were being led before a firing squad. Earphones with music piped through them, so I could take my mind off of the small and enclosed space I was being delivered into, were placed tightly against my head.
Shaking my head back and forth, I immediately began saying...
"Ummmm, I don't think I can do this."
"This isn't going to work."
"In fact, I am about to lose my $%!#"
Both of the technicians kindly removed the blindfold and earphones. They did not give the impression that they were exasperated or peeved. In fact, I don't think I was the first unnerved, middle aged, shaking woman they had pulled off the table that day.
I was kindly informed that I could reschedule this lovely experience and be given drugs to calm me down. I was told that an Ativan should be enough to help with the anxiety. I laughed and said I was a child of the "70's and it would take an Ativan and an IV drip of beer to get me back up on that table.
And while that initially sounded like a good idea, I immediately realized that once in that tube, where you cannot move, I would be relaxed and drunk enough to think every song was my favorite and I would need to use the bathroom.
Five minutes after walking back to take the test, I returned to my waiting husband with a modest shake of my head before darting into the changing room. I needed my bra like I needed a vodka martini.
My lovely husband was supportive and encouraging. He didn't want me to beat myself up over the same kind of test he took not too long ago. A test he used as a personal vacation where he slept through the procedure....without drugs. "Everyone has little idiosyncrasies," he said. "I have a brother in law who can't swallow a pill. The man is over 50 years old and looks like a cat with a spoonful of peanut butter in its mouth when he tries."
Thanks honey, that and an Ativan or two should help me next time.