Strong Words, Softly Spoken


If that’s what being eleven is all about, I’m staying ten til I’m forty!
July 3, 2008, 4:57 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

There are times when I really pride myself on being a grown up. On a daily basis, I really don’t feel like much of one, but I am one…and there are days when I really pat myself on the back for handing things in such a grown up manner. Today……………………….was not one of those days.

I’ve been having headaches over the last month or so…migraines…cluster headaches…and the doctor decided to do an MRI just to be sure these headaches are harmless. So, I was scheduled for an MRI this afternoon. I show up at 2:30 like I was told to and they lead me back to a room where I was pretty much given a locker and told that I needed to remove my jewelry and my bra. Now, I don’t think any men reading this can relate, but I’m sure the women can. For me, being in public without a bra is like being naked in front of a large crowd. I’m wearing a thin, light yellow t-shirt – not exactly the best thing to be wearing when you’re going to have to be braless in front of countless numbers of strangers. So, there I am, exposed to the world….and then they call me back……to get my IV.

*insert panic attack here*

IV? I’m getting an IV? WHY am I getting an IV? I was not told about this. I’m not prepared for this. I hate needles. I hate shots. I need time to mentally prepare myself for this idea. I can’t get an IV NOW! The last time I had an IV I was 15 and having my wisdom teeth cut out, and I sobbed like a small child while holding onto my mother for dear life. And this is where I realize how un-grown up I actually am. She’s setting up the little tray and pulling needles out of drawers and here I am, a 28 year old woman sitting in chair telling myself, “it’s ok. You are a big girl, Siobhan. You can do this. IT IS OK.” But while I’m giving myself this pep talk, I’m really thinking “why didn’t I let my mother come with me?” Sad, no?

One IV later, they lead me back to the MRI room and I’m told to lie down on this tiny little table. A couple of days ago they called and asked me a list of questions, one being “are you claustrophobic?” I answered no…because I’m really not. I can’t stand not being able to move my arms, so as long as they didn’t strap me down to a table I thought I’d be ok. Well, there’s something about being rolled up in a small plastic tube with about an inch of space between your head and the top that makes a person more claustrophobic than one would think. My first reaction was to panic. I felt my blood pressure start to rise and there I was, again, giving myself a pep talk. “It’s ok, Siobhan. Breathe, Siobhan. You’re a big girl, Siobhan, you can take this.”

My inner voice of reason prevailed, and I made it through. The process was actually very relaxing once it got started. If it weren’t for the very loud foghorn noises the machine made, I would’ve probably slept soundly through the whole thing. IV and all.

So maybe I really should be patting myself on the back for being such a grown up today. Because, hey, I made it through the IV without crying……I think that says something.