So the other night I dreamt that I was being chased by a whale. If I was in the water, it was there underneath the raft. If I was on dry land, it would dive after me and somehow reach me in the pine trees that I had run into. This massive "whale"-- it was black and faceless and tubular-- was invisible to everyone else. In this dream I was hiding behind a pine tree and waiting for it to go away.
Now it doesn't take a psych degree to figure out the whale is representing all of the problems in my world right now...chasing me, etc. But yesterday when I was walking into the cold, sterile and metal-filled room for my MRI, I got a chill. The MRI was definitely tubular. The students that were sitting around and taking notes on God knows what (we hadn't started yet, were they writing about me? "nervous patient, overweight, bad hair, not enough makeup") were definitely faceless in a no- bedside-manner way.
The forty-five minute procedure was pretty tough. My head was in a cage, my ears plugged and dye was injected into my arm. As the dye traveled into my blood stream I had an instant memory of childhood: chewing on a pen and having the ink explode into my mouth. My eyes were closed and after a few seconds all I could see was blue in my eyelids.
When the bings and bongs and electric grindy noises started I knew that the whale had finally caught up to me. I started to panic, fighting the urge to scream out. Then my wedding ring started vibrating and pulling at my finger. I began to calm down and think straight, I can get through this. People are out there pulling for me and everything was going to be ok. Breathe.
I may still be hiding behind the pine tree but I know that the doctors, my friends and family know what is lurking behind me and they are going to help get rid of it.
Now it doesn't take a psych degree to figure out the whale is representing all of the problems in my world right now...chasing me, etc. But yesterday when I was walking into the cold, sterile and metal-filled room for my MRI, I got a chill. The MRI was definitely tubular. The students that were sitting around and taking notes on God knows what (we hadn't started yet, were they writing about me? "nervous patient, overweight, bad hair, not enough makeup") were definitely faceless in a no- bedside-manner way.
The forty-five minute procedure was pretty tough. My head was in a cage, my ears plugged and dye was injected into my arm. As the dye traveled into my blood stream I had an instant memory of childhood: chewing on a pen and having the ink explode into my mouth. My eyes were closed and after a few seconds all I could see was blue in my eyelids.
When the bings and bongs and electric grindy noises started I knew that the whale had finally caught up to me. I started to panic, fighting the urge to scream out. Then my wedding ring started vibrating and pulling at my finger. I began to calm down and think straight, I can get through this. People are out there pulling for me and everything was going to be ok. Breathe.
I may still be hiding behind the pine tree but I know that the doctors, my friends and family know what is lurking behind me and they are going to help get rid of it.
1 comment:
Eileen, I knew Casey was leaving but didn't know you were go through this kind of stuff too. Much love from over in Cali. Hope the pain gets better soon!
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