WOMP! WOMP! WOMP! – My machine turns on & even though I’m wearing industrial grade ear protection, there is nothing that can take the sound of that machine away from my ears. I open my eyes and suddenly I feel my body gravitating inside towards the machine. I meditate but am quickly interrupted by instructions that are meant to seem calm and informative, but I feel like I’m being yelled at.
Don’t breathe,” the machine says.
You can breathe normally.”
Repeat 20 times. But they said it would only take a 1/2 hr. It’s been an hour… what’s going wrong? What are they seeing? What are they NOT seeing? I have to pee. I have to go NOW. I tell the staff and they ask me to wait 5 minutes. I don’t have 5 minutes.
Tears stream down my eyes. I told you I didn’t have 5 minutes.
“What if they find something serious?”
“But what if they don’t”
I’m so distended. I’m ready to burst. This contrast is making me extremely ill and I am going to vomit soon. Soon, it hits my intestines & I need to get out.
I scream for a nurse, I need to get out NOW.
Too late. I was too late? No. They should have listened.
I hate these machines. As if I wasn’t humbled enough, I had to have an accident inside of an MRI machine. I’m angry with them. I feel like no one listens when I need them to the most.
“We didn’t get enough image before you ran to the bathroom and the barium isn’t active anymore, we need you to drink more.”
Cry. Breathe in. Swallow. Swallow 2 more cups. Vomit. Swallow two more.
Breathe. Go back inside the machine that looks like it will turn me into honey, I shrunk the Crohn’s patient.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold.
WOMP WOMP WOMP WOOOOOOSH
When is this over? This music is awful. Is it really supposed to drown out people’s fears of hyperventilating and cramped spaces? This is the pits.
Tears come again. The contrast makes me ill and very emotional, not to mention vulnerable.
Why does this make me cry every time?
“I’m broken. Fix me.” I don’t say it out loud, but as I leave the machine with tears in my eyes, they speak thousands of words to the radiologist &Ii know she understands every single one of my thousand unspoken words. I’ll probably never see her again. Sometimes the people that care for us in these moments, we know that we will likely never see them again. Once and done. They help us get through procedures and they get us back home, but we know we won’t ever see them again.
Fix me. I’m broken.