Written September 14, 2010 8:30 pm

Quiet day today.  Anita visited with various family members and friends through the course of the day and watched some television.  An MRI will be performed tonight to check lesions/inflammation against previous MRIs.

Into the rabbit hole again.  The only plus about an MRI is it's an outing.  An adventure.  I get to leave the floor and explore other corridors, elevators, departments. I'm pushed down the hallway in my bed, still flat on my back, but it's good to get out.  ICUs are rather stoic and secluded.  When I leave the floor, my senses are overwhelmed.  The smell of microwave popcorn makes me yearn for my old life.  The overhead lights glaring at me between  institutional white ceiling tiles, burn my eyes, causing me to squint at the brightness. The loud ding of the elevator door startles me. I'm like a hunting dog on steroids, keenly aware of sights, sounds, and smells. My head is ready for the hunt, if only the body would cooperate.

The elevator spits me out at the X-Ray department.  I am pushed into the outer chamber of the MRI scanner.  It's dark in here.  No windows to the outside.  Just one that allows the technician to look in on the man-eater from the safety of the "control booth". I hear the monster gurgling as if underwater.  I don't look into its mouth.  I don't want to see the narrow passage that's going to swallow me for the next few hours.  I get lifted and slid onto the narrow table.  My head is strapped in tight, which is pretty frightening, since it's one of the only body parts I can move independently.  They cover my eyes with a washcloth, stick earplugs in my ears and send me into the beast's mouth. 

I keep my eyes closed and try to relax.  Deep breathing is my first choice for stress management, but due to some paralysis and a ventilator, that's not possible.  So, I play the alphabet game.  I remember it from long car rides as the "picnic game".  "I am going on a picnic and I'm bringing an apple....I'm bringing an apple and a bandana...." The letters bounce around in my head. I am aware.  I am aware and brave.  I am aware, brave and creative.  The beast keeps cadence with each letter by hammering, dinging, buzzing.  The earplugs aren't working, but I can't tell anyone.  I am aware, brave, creative, and determined.  The noise makes it hard to focus.  My thoughts wander. Why is there a letter x?  Why aren't there more words that begin with x, q, or z?  These thought make me panic. So, I focus on the letters again.  I am aware, brave, creative, determined, and enlightened.  It works.  I actually fall asleep before reaching the letter "h".  At least I think I do.  Now...for just a little while.