PrayingWithMyFingers

It has been said that God works in mysterious ways and, I believe it!  For months now, I have been struggling with getting back into my daily meditation.  At best, meditation is difficult but in these last several months, I have found it to be impossible to sit in silence.  My crazy mind has been running the show.  I have been praying for help but, who would have thought the answer would come in the form of an MRI?

A visit this week to an orthopedic guy suggested that the recent pain in my right arm may be due to a tear in the rotator cuff….the supraspinatus muscle, to be exact.  I couldn’t remember any impactful even that could have caused the problem but Dr. S. said it can happen just in the process of aging.  Yikes!  I hear Betty Davis in my head again, “Getting old ain’t for sissys!”  Since the x-rays are not enough to confirm tear or no tear, Dr. S. says I need an MRI.

Two days later, I arrive at Partners Imaging – not with excitement, for sure – but with no particular concerns except for what potentially the tests might reveal.  I filled out the usual paperwork and signed the usual releases saying that the doctor is not responsible for anything that may or may not happen – ever!  I noted the elderly people in the waiting room and wondered what I was doing there.  I picked up a fitness magazine to thumb through while waiting.  Visions of me being slim and trim again with muscles danced though my head.

Then, it was my turn.  The dark-haired, moustached young man ushered me to the changing room where I removed my watch, necklace and earrings, as well as my bra (always happy to remove the bra!).  I put my personal possessions in the locker, turned the green-tagged key and headed to the imaging room where my escort waited.  He helped me to lie down on what I can only call a body tray.  There was a small table-like area under which I put my right shoulder.  He then cranked down the table to press on my shoulder and placed a weight on my arm to keep me from moving it.  It had the feel and texture of a Beanie Baby but heavier.  My left arm was curled onto my chest and he gave me a tube with what looked and felt like a basting bulb on the end.  This was given to me so if, for any reason, I wanted to end the test I could push the bulb and be removed from the machine.  Turkeys should have such options!  He put headphones on my ears to block the noise.  Still no alarm bells.  “Ready?”  he asked.  Ready.

The quiet motor of the MRI machine eased me into the tubular enclosure.  Then, alarm bells, alarm bells, alarm bells!!!!!  I was completely chlostrophic.  I asked him to take me out before we even began.  He removed the beanie baby weight, eased my shoulder from under the tiny table and helped me sit up on the tray.  I asked for water.  My mouth was as dry as a desert.

Certainly Mr. Helper of the MRI patients was trained to deal with this type of incident.   I asked him if there was any other way to get the necessary information from my arm other than an MRI.  No.  He patiently waited for me to calm down and then began coaching me back into position again.  Once I was properly situated he reminded me that I could push the bulb at any time during the procedure but, if I did so, we would have to start all over again as the information would be lost.  The test would run from 15 to 20 minutes.

I have always been an overachiever and a perfectionist.  I am not good at admitting failure.  Refusing the test wasn’t something I thought I could do.  And, besides, I wanted to know how to get my arm healed.  Loss of a functioning right arm didn’t seem like an option to me.

Back into the tube I went.  This time with a lightweight cloth over my eyes to help, supposedly.  My tour guide said he was putting on some music and then the test would begin.  It began.  RA-TAT-TAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!RA-TAT-TAT!!!!!!!!!!!!RA-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT like a machine gun in my ears.  The headphones were useless and, the piano music that was supposed to help calm me down was a barely audible outrageous joke!  After two minutes, the noise changed to the sound of a fire truck and an ambulance running through my head and, still the damn piano, la la la!

My heart was pounding and palpitating so badly I thought a heart attack was on the way.  My thumb hung over the bulb and I almost pushed the alarm more than once but each time I would think about the need to start over if I didn’t complete the required time.  I began to pray every prayer that I could think of:  Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me; Our Father who art in heaven; HELP!  My breathing was ragged and shallow.  I tried to breathe deeply.  That helped a little but also made me fearful of moving and disrupting the test.

Then, finally, it was over.  The technician again helped me up and out of the torture chamber.  I made sure he knew how awful it was for me and then, he told me to ask for drugs next time.  That is a mental note I will not have to make.  Drugs it is and will be if ever another MRI is in my future.

This morning, I was happy to get up and sit in my comfortable chair and enjoy the silence and stillness.  All the jibber jabber was knocked out of me – at least for this morning.  And, now, perhaps, anytime I think mediation is too difficult, I can remember that, yes, God is everywhere, in all things but I definitely prefer God where God prefers to be found……….in the Silence.