Today I will be celebrating with another MRI. I’m pretty sure that all of these machines are equally killing me but we can pretend they’re trying to extend my life.
Anyhow, after work, I will be locked into in my favorite head cage- which if you’re already claustrophobic, is like the icing on a cake, for about 45 minutes.
Unlike last night’s fiasco of them initially not wanting to provide me with music, I will be once again choosing Disney. Now, music is the key- especially when one is not provided Ativan, but not any type of music. For instance, I once fell asleep listening to Frank, and I know I was jerking my head- even while locked- so it can’t be too soothing.
Soothing? Well, the sounds of the MRI are now akin to being back in the womb, so I need something that stimulates, yet calms.
My point is this: while I am now officially 49, I didn’t think I’d see 50. Yes, I am doing well minus a major part of my body (spine), but I am no longer interested in celebrations. To me, turning another year older is one year less that I have in this timeline I’m part of.
Sure, you could say we’re all dying- but I’m pretty sure my stats are higher.
So while I am chronologically 49, my body isn’t.
Let’s just say this: yesterday while trying to plan for my radiation, I had to make sure it didn’t interfere with my proctologist appointment nor my chemo.
Needless to say, while my family and friends want to celebrate another year that I am alive, I would like to freeze time.