We just got back from a couple hours at Hartford Hospital, where I had the MRI. Only time I felt any panic at all was before the procedure, when I remembered that, at the age of 5, I swallowed a metal bell while jumping on the bed. Wouldn't THAT have been a surprise, to have that bell tear out from my insides. The technician checked with her boss to make sure that it would either have "passed" or have corroded. Once assured of this, the procedure was fine. Well, you know.
Anyway, no bell tore its way out, and I stayed as still as stone. And through all the hour of clanging and buzzing, I alternated between envisioning Michael Jackson dancing (sort of techno style) and saying to myself "breathing in, this moment; breathing out, wonderful moment." And actually there was one set of sounds that was just like the first few bars of the Beatles "Revolution" song -- you know, the guitar goes nananananannanananaNA, then John sings, "you say you want a revolution, well, you know, we all want to change the world." That kept me going for awhile. Also, I could feel Laura rubbing my pinky, which further anchored me. She has been solid as bedrock, though we both feel like we are in a bizarre dream.
We're already impatient for the call from my doctor about today's results. Won't hear until tomorrow afternoon, though. More then.
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