OR enter tube, open eyes once and realize you may indeed have some degree of claustrophobia. Step two, damn near a full on panic attack with elevated heart rate and the only tools with which to combat it are yoga breathing and the Jack Johnson in your headphones. I don't even know why I chose Mr. Johnson - he is really Tim's speed. I guess I was hoping he would put me to sleep.
I spent the next twenty minutes sweating, heart racing, on the cusp of a complete freak out while attempting to hold absolutely still so as not to mess up the scan. And wouldn't you know damn Pandora had to put the Dave Matthews Band on the Jack Johnson channel.
I hate Dave Matthews.
When I was mercifully set free after the longest twenty minutes of my life, I asked the MRI tech how many people just ejected from the test each day. Turns out about 3 out of 20 can't take it. But, she added, I had done an excellent job and they had no idea I was distressed.
Let's hope it was worth it and they tell the doctor at Monday's appointment how we should proceed.