Tunnel Vision

Tunnel vision seemed like an appropriate title for this post being the gargantuan MRI machine feels like being stuck in a shallow tunnel, surrounded tightly on all sides with blaring fireworks going off directly into your ears.  

I arrived at the dreaded hospital (aka place of death) about 15 minutes early for my MRI.  Thankfully, they are currently in the process of renovating so it didnt even look like the same place I stepped foot in 8 months ago when I underwent the D & C.  I checked in, got a wristband, and was pleasantly informed that my insurance would pay 100% for it.  While waiting, I asked the lady at the desk if I could request a copy of my images that would be taken.  She gave me a form and I filled it out. Finally, the technician called me back and reviewed the script with me.  I must say how sweet this lady was…she asked questions, listened to my story, and even took the time to call my RE’s office to ask a few questions.  

I have only had 1 MRI before and that was for the herniated disc I have in my neck. What I remembered most from that was how long the scan seemed and that I couldnt really move much. I didnt remember it to be too bad.  Now, I should add that this neck MRI was a several years back, which were pre-anxiety days, or the pre-IVF and pre-RPL days of my life. 

This being said, I contemplated the idea of taking a Xanax before todays MRI, but did not since I drove myself to the appt. straight from work.  Anyways, I had an IV adminstered this time for the dye which I did not have in the past.  After the IV, she had me take off all metal items, empty my bladder, and lay on the table.  She asked me what type of music I wanted to listen to, reviewed the protocol with me, put on my headphones, and pushed me into the tunnel.  

Immediately, I caught myself feeling anxious.  I started breathing heavier and suddenly felt like I was going to die.  If you have not experienced anxiety/panic before, this probably sounds insane to you…nevertheless, its true.  I closed my eyes and started praying.  I was able calm down after a few minutes.  I considered pushing the help button several times as I stared at the top of the tunnel above my face.  Then I started to think of all the people with terminal diseases who constantly go through procedures like this.  Just for a moment, I felt like I could relate to them.  Please dont misunderstand, my disease is in no way fatal like theirs; but my level of empathy and understanding for the pain they endure was taken to another level at that moment.  Something I will never forget.  Something positive that infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss have bestowed upon me…more compassion. 

Needless to say, I sucked it up and did not push the button.  Instead, I began to think about the journey to where we are now.  I imagined an imaginary line running up the center of the tunnel, from the bottom where my feet lay, to the top of the tunnel where my head was. Sort of like a timeline with my feet being start and my head finish.  I wondered where we are on the line in regards to bringing our baby home…are we close to the top? In the middle? Still at the bottom? I started to place events on the line, giving each a few moments of my time.  I couldnt see above my feet as she slid me at times…this was good…putting those events behind me.  I ended up placing us somewhat close to my head, in the vicinty of my upper torso to be exact.  

Time was finally up. The wonderful technician surprised me with the CD of my images on the spot, so I did not need to mess with getting them another time. I popped in the CD and tried to examine it when I arrived home.  All of it looks utterly insane to me.  I tried Dr. Google, still no help there.  Regardless, it was comforting to be handed the CD, even if I cant make anything of it until my RE calls me.  Its the little things in life, right?