The following is a brief summary of what was going through my head as I was laying in the MRI machine. If this makes no sense to you, your mind must be incredibly disciplined (boring) and you must be such a joy to talk to! If you can relate, then we are soul mates and you should enjoy reading my stuff. I don't think in paragraph form, so I won't write it that way either.
Why were they so worried about me freaking out? This isn't so bad, no worse than a tanning bed. But I don't have to be naked and it's not as hot. It doesn't smell like coconut in here, either. Don't move, don't move, don't move. I'm not breathing! I can't hold my breath for half an hour! OK, don't move but breathe. Breathe without moving. Not like that, I'm going to hyperventilate! OK, normal breathing without moving. Band breathing, into the belly and not the chest, just like Mr. Nelson taught us. Why do I have to remind myself to breathe? Did I turn stupid when they turned on this thing? Oooh! It moves! Those clanking noises are making my bench vibrate! That's weird. You know, that guy totally just talked me out of my bra in a span of like 30 seconds. Literally, the conversation went "Hi, I'm Matt and I'll be doing your test today. Ma'am, I'm going to need you to take off your bra." And I did! Was it the scrubs and the ID badge, or the fact that he called me ma'am? I should ask him how often that line works for him. I'm guessing every single time, if he's here. I bet my bra wouldn't even have affected the machine, Matt just has a thing for old lady saggy boobs. I bet he's looking through the window right now at my armpit boobs and laughing. Yes, Matt, they're real. When you make me take off my bra and then lay me on my back, they land somewhere around my armpits! Does that make you happy, Matt? Don't laugh, don't move. Focus on the music coming out of these paper covered headphones Matt put on me. But not too much, my foot is trying to tap. Damn it, foot! Stay where you go! Oh no. My nose itches. My nose has not itched in weeks! Why would it choose now to itch? Well, too bad, nose! You're going to have to stay itching, because I'm not going through this again for you or any other nose! I wonder why he put this towel over my face? What would I be able to see if the towel wasn't there? Is that why people freak out? Does it look scary in here? Maybe they should cover everybody's face and see if it helps. "Hi Jill. It's Matt. You doing OK?" Whoa! I can hear him! Can he hear my thoughts? Is that what the machine does, allow them to see into my fucked up brain? "Yes, Matt, I'm fine." "OK, just a few more rounds and you'll be done. You're doing great." "Thank you." Why did I just thank him? For reading my mind? Shit! I forgot to tell him my nose itches! Oh, wait. It's not itching anymore. Cool. When he asked what music I wanted, I should have asked if they had any Green Day. I'm guessing "Jesus of Suburbia" is long enough to get me through this whole test. But this is alright. I haven't heard "Welcome to the Jungle" in a few years. Remember senior year band camp when Guns & Roses was huge and we all walked around with those bandannas on our heads? We were such dorks. Still better than those dumb ass kids today, though. At least our pants stayed up! A few more rounds. What does that mean? How many rounds have I been through so far? One? How many rounds are there? Are we halfway done, a quarter of the way done, what? That weight he put on my arm to keep it in the right place is making my hand fall asleep. How did I not notice I was laying my head directly on top of my ponytail holder? What inconvenient head placement! Why do I never remember to position my head before we start these things? Either the ponytail holder is digging into my brain, or my hair is hanging, ready to get caught in every piece of equipment in the room! I wish I wasn't too lazy for short hair. I wish it wasn't so much work to keep short hair! Oh, there's Led Zeppelin. That Robert Plant. Wow, what a voice. Hey, I'm breathing and not moving! See, Matt? I can do this! Seriously, that hand is tingling and starting to get really uncomfortable. How much longer am I going to be in here? Should I yell for Matt? Will he think something's wrong and turn off the machine? If he turns it off, can we pick up from there later, or do we have to start all over? I really should have asked more questions before I got in here. My bra didn't even have an under wire! I wore that one today on purpose, just for that reason! Oh, the hooks. I bet those are metal. I get it. Sorry, Matt, for thinking you're a pervert. I'm sure you don't like seeing us sag any more than we like sagging. Now the thumb on that hand is twitching. Great. Keep it down, thumb. I don't think you're important, but we can't take any chances! How do people sit in a quiet room without a book? Doesn't their brain go through the same shit mine is going through now? Why would a person do that to herself? I don't get non readers. That just doesn't make any sense. Oh, Robert just stopped singing in the middle of a word. What happened? Where did you go, Robert? Did my twitchy thumb make you go away? Come back! Oh, the machine got quiet, too. I'm moving! "We're all finished, Jill. Most people move while they're in there, but you did great." Yeah, no big deal. Good thing it didn't measure my inner conversation!
If you don't get it, fine. If you do, you are not alone! Just do me a favor, and don't be the wuss who totally gets it and pretends not to just so people don't think you're crazy. It's better to be crazy than to be a liar!
