I went for an MRI this week. I’ve heard a lot of rumors
about getting an MRI: loud noises and a confined space. Throw in some beer and
we’ve got a concert. But this was not a concert. The nurse and I walked outside
to a double wide trailer to get to the MRI machine. I was worried I was being
catfished, but then I saw the technician inside and I figured that this might
be ok. Once adjusted on the weird surfboard they call a bed I was slowly raised
into the MRI machine.
Nurse (thick Southern accent): “Now it’s going to get real
loud so if you try to talk to us or need help we won’t hear you. If you need
something just press this button.”
Uhhh. What’s happening?
Nurse: “What kind of music do you want to listen to?”
Me: “Not country.”
Nurse: “Oh gosh. I love a good country song. Ok, so Mix
101.5.”
Me: “Oh, umm, ok. I guess Kelly Clarkson is fine.”
She puts on my headphones and walks out. I have no idea
what’s happening.
Then, it sounds as if I am inside a foghorn. Like on a riverboat
on the Mississippi River. The music, One Direction, is just faintly playing as
the foghorn continues to scream on.
The foghorn, as offensive as it was, reminded me of my trip
to St. Louis and my ride on a riverboat on the Mississippi. I remember trying
to teach my yearbook students that Mark Twain worked on boats similar to the
one we were on at that moment. They did not care at all. They wanted to meet
some cute guy on a boat. Then I made a joke about Huck Finn and they did not
laugh.
Oh, a new sound now. Remember that scene in Armageddon when
Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck are drilling into the meteor that is about to hit
Earth? Yeah, that same drilling sound was now happening. I felt like I was inside
the meteor. What the heck do these sounds have to do with an MRI? And
Armageddon is one of the worst movies. Yes, Michael Buble´ is sure to cancel out
this sound.
Wow. I did not think the sounds could get any worse. Up
next, a train. But this time it sounds as if the train is coming from all
different directions, towards me, and I cannot move. As Michael Buble´ faded
and, I kid you not, Kelly Clarkson came on the radio, I wondered if I could
take the train this year. I would love to hop on a train, ride to some
wonderful place, take a tour of the city, have lunch at a quaint bistro, then
hop back on the train and come home.
So after 20 minutes and now a headache from the mixture of
music and loudest sounds on Earth I still did not get any results. I have to
wait and go back, in two weeks, to figure out if I just have a torn MCL or if
my meniscus is damaged as well.
Needless to say I am frustrated. Frustrated I cannot walk up
and down stairs normally. Frustrated I have to continue wearing this horrid
brace. Frustrated I cannot run the Duke trail, let alone walk the trail.
Frustrated it takes me an extra 15 minutes to get ready in the morning since my
body is telling me to move at a glacial place. Frustrated that it still hurts
to stand. Frustrated at the possibility of surgery. Frustrated I have to have
physical therapy.
I know there are things in my life that I cannot control. I
mean, I had a plan for 2015, a goal. And now that has all been derailed due to
my knee. I guess I would like to believe that God has taken over my plan. That
He is saying, “Aw, your plan was cute, but I’ve got something else in store for
you.” And I am hoping that, in the end, His plan is good.
So as I sit here and whine about my frustrations, leg
elevated of course, I am also wondering what the good is in all of this? Can I
discern anything positive? My coworkers and students have been encouraging,
thoughtful, and (somewhat) kind. My friends have bent over backwards to ensure
I am ok and taken care of at every moment. My family has listened to me cry,
cleaned my apartment, and cooked me several meals. I can now bend my knee a
bit. I have become more authoritative when stating that I cannot do something
due to my knee instead of attempting to please the masses all the time. This
injury has not kept me from spending meaningful time with students, friends,
and family.
My world has not come crashing down. In the grand scheme of
things, this is not a serious injury. I still have two legs, a house to live
in, and food on the table. I have enough money to pay my bills. In the end,
yes, there are some positives about this. And perspective is important too. I can
choose to be frustrated but there are other emotions that are more vital and
more worthy of my time than frustration.
However, if I hear Kelly Clarkson or a fog horn again, then
I will just have to figure out how to destroy every MRI machine in America.
