Trusting Eyes

My doctor ordered an MRI, because since my ear surgery, my hearing is worse in my ear. I had never had an MRI, but knew basically what they were. When I arrived at the hospital, the valet parked my car for me. Nice. Then I went to registration. The lady who registered me asked, "You're not claustrophobic are you?" and I replied, "No." She completed the registration and sent me to the department where the test would be done. When I signed in, the lady at the desk said, "This is a closed MRI. I hope you're not claustrophic." I shook my head, not quite as confident of my answer as I had been with the first woman. When they called me back, and I saw the MRI machine, the lab tech asked, "Are you claustrophic?" By now, I wasn't so sure. I asked, "How long do I have to be in there." She said, "Well your doctor has ordered three scans, one is done with dye, so all together probably around an hour." I thought I had heard her wrong. I looked at this small tunnel, and asked her again, "I'll be in THERE for an hour?" "Yes." I was feeling a bit faint and I hadn't even started yet. I climbed onto the table, and she covered me up to my hips with a sheet, all the time talking, "It gets hot in there, so I won't pull this up very far. I'm putting ear plugs in your ears. MRI's are very loud, like a jackhammer." I was dreading this more every minute. Then she put a helmet type thing on my head with a visor, and began to move me inside the machine. I closed my eyes. I thought it had always been my answer for having to ride through scary houses at the fair with my sister when I was little. If I didn't look, I wouldn't be so afraid. Finally the table stopped and I was inside. I tried to think about other things, but every now and then my thoughts would come back to being in that tunnel and I'd feel panic rising. I'd breathe slowly and try to relax. I don't know how long I was in there the first time, but it seemed like hours. Then they backed me out just enough so I could see light, and I felt the needle with the dye go in. It hurt like hell, and I don't mind needles generally. (When I looked at it later at work, I had a big dark purple splotch three inches across so I knew the guy must have botched it somehow.) When he started me back into the machine, I felt the panic really start. I just didn't think I could take another long period in there! I reminded myself that if I stopped them, I'd probably have to do all this over, so I started trying to take deep breaths again, with my eyes closed so tight they hurt. I lay there a long, long time. I had thoughts that maybe they had all left for the day and forgot I was in there. I thought of horror movies where people are buried alive. All these thoughts I tried to shoo away but they kept coming back. Finally after a long, long time, I opened my eyes. The top of the machine was about two inches from my face. I kept trying to breathe but no air would go in. Then I looked upward again, and I caught a glimpse of a strip of mirror, long and narrow above me. In it, I could see my eyes. I knew those eyes. They are one of my favorite features. They are large and green with long lashes. But the best thing about them was how familiar they looked. I began to relax. I felt almost peaceful again, and I started breathing again. I've always heard it said you should never trust anyone who won't look you in the eye. I never look anyone in the eye. All my life I've had "lazy eye" and numerous doctors, eye exercises, patching, etc never helped, so I was always self-conscious of the possibility one of my eyes could drift while looking at someone. Of course, I can control it when I think about it. But when my eyes are tired, or I'm concentrating on something else, they wander. I know it looks weird and freaks some people out. I try to pretend it's not happening and most people have enough manners not to mention it. Today though I looked MYSELF in the eyes, and found something there I could trust. I saw the strength I didn't know I had.