My 1st MRI

My first brain MRI was in Chicago after being rushed to the ER. I woke from a seizure stuck inside a device that hummed and rattled with a disembodied voice telling me not to move. As I recall, it wasn’t a pleasant voice. However, in defense of the tech overseeing the procedure, I struggled to free myself. In my defense, however, who the fuck wouldn’t? I was reentering the world from a seizure; I didn’t know who I was or where or, for that matter, what I was. I was there, semi-conscious, with my head stuck inside an unknown object that seemed to be pulsating. “Jeremiah, don’t move! If you do, we’ll have to start the procedure again!” So, I stopped moving; instead, I just cried.

 What I remember, even more than the terrifying sounds, the somewhat annoyed tech, and the tears, was my thirst. My god, the craving for water was so intense. My tongue was leather-like in my mouth. When thirst surpasses fear, a new level of a primordial being emerges. That is the creature that remained on that MRI/scan bed, the being who rested motionless and withdrew inward. I do not know any other word to describe the sensation better, but “withdraw” is most suitable. It was as though Jeremiah split into two halves, the person being tested/scanned and the one full of desperation. In between these was where I ended up and withdrew, holing up in a chasm. I remember resting my hands by my side as if I were a windup toy that had just ended its cycle. I’ve always wondered what the MRI tech thought. Did they see me slip into that place, that point between two worlds, the chasm I mentioned?

 The “scanxiety” is everpresent; how could it not be? However, I understand that my genuine fear is detaching. I am concerned about stopping as I did before within that gap between the two halves amidst those two worlds. The horror of a potential recurrence is no longer as intense as it was, even with the tumor markers that are trending upwards ever-so-slightly. If it ever does return, I’ll deal with it. I dealt with it when initially diagnosed and again with the recurrence. After numerous hypnosis sessions, it is evident that my worry of withdrawing, psychologically and emotionally disengaging, far surpasses my concern of a recurrence.

 As I have discovered, and most already know, cancer can be managed and treated in numerous ways. The withdrawing, the derealization I speak of, isn’t controlled or cured in such a targeted manner. I feel more detached with each MRI. Amid each procedure, the tech, be it for an MRI, CT, etc., needn’t tell me to “stop moving!” as I keep finding my way back to that middle ground, to the chasm.