Smashed painting.

The next morning I did wake up. I woke up to the drumming sound of rain falling down outside and was reminded of my bitter reality. Dark clouds filled the sky. And my heart. My heart that way slowly being drained of all hope.

“Today was a day I wouldn’t mind skipping”. Today I had an appointment for my CAT scan. “Let’s just skip over today, or maybe the next few days. Let’s get to the good parts.” I hoped there would be good parts.

There was no skipping of any days. There was no skipping of any moments for that matter.

I knew I had to push right on through. I desperately wanted to hide under my covers instead. I desperately wanted to make it all stop. I wanted to wake up from this bad dream I was having. “Come on. It’s not funny anymore.  Let’s go back to the way things were. This can’t be happening. This can’t be my life.”

When I was little I heard people say that my life was “like a Norman Rockwell painting”. It was picture perfect with two parents who were madly in love with each other and their two girls.

Well someone had smashed my painting. Into tiny pieces. And then poured acid all over it.

We headed off to Middlesex Radiology, and I stuffed my sense of dread as far down as it would go. It tried to surface a few times on the car ride over, but I did my best to beat it back down.

We entered the waiting room, and I was annoyed to find a room full of waiting people. I took a quick scan of the room. There weren’t many smiles. That’s the thing about waiting people. You don’t find many happy ones.

We sat for what felt like an eternity. My back ached. My buttocks hurt from sitting upright in the chair. I had grown so accustomed to lying in my bed. This was straining my body. I slouched down in the seat, but it didn’t help.

Twenty minutes passed and a black woman called my name from her cubicle. My mom hurried over to meet her. I decided it was better for me to stay put. I would only move if absolutely necessary. A few moments later I saw my mom return with a large stack of papers. She quickly sat down, breathing in deeply and dutifully buried her head in the clipboard.

Thirty more minutes passed. I closed my eyes, but it was anything but restful. I heard a door open to my left and a tall man called my name. I gripped the sides of my chair to help heave myself out of my seat. I staggered quickly across the room. We walked down a bright hallway with white floors and white walls. I was brought into a dim room with a table that was surrounded by a giant white circle with a hole in the middle. I was told to go across the hall and take off everything from my waist up. In that room I was told I would find a drape and was instructed to put on. I was told that it “opened in the back”.

I was dizzy. And I was cold. The last thing I wanted to do was undress.

 I walked across the hall. There were three doors. “Which door was he talking about?”. I opened the door directly in front of me. To my surprise the other side of the door contained a young male wearing only his boxers. I quickly slammed the door.

I felt myself blush for half a second. Normally I would have brewed about this for the remainder of the day. I had too much going on, too much to process. This would take the back burner.

I opened the next door down the hall praying this would be empty. It was. I entered and grabbed a drape. For a moment I paused. It was a long pause, as I stood there attempting to discern how to put the drape on.  There were three ties. “Did the ties go in the front or the back? Were the ties for the arms?”. I had always been bad at this sort of thing.

Exasperated, I slung the ridiculous drape over my head and covered myself. I scurried across the hall, hoping no one would see. As I reentered the dim room the young radiology technician gave me half a smile and started walking my way. Seconds later I felt her untying and retying my drape. I was grateful for the help. Although I wasn’t sure it mattered at this point.

I lied down on the table in the center of the giant white donut. I knew this was it. I knew this test held the answers to all our questions. I couldn’t help but picture my chest full of nodules. I tried to ‘will’ myself well. I knew it made no sense. But for a second I wondered if I could somehow fake out the machine.

Seconds later the tech again approached me, this time to inject my IV with dye. The table began to move back and forth into the donut. I was told to hold my breath several times.

I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sound of rattling machine. I knew in a few seconds it would all be over.