Monsters

I suspect many of us have monsters under our beds. I am not referring to the ginormous dust bunnies residing under my bed or the stack of unread magazines awaiting a proper burial. The monsters I am referring to take the form of long-held fears, rational or otherwise. Recently, my 21-year-old niece shared her monster story with me. Mind you, she is a courageous young lady who has lived and worked in third world countries so her monster surprised me a bit. She has always been afraid of a bee's sting. She was sure she was going to have an allergic reaction and it would go down badly. A few weeks ago, her monster crawled out from under her bed and she was stung by a bee. To her great relief, she reacted with just the usual swelling and stinging sensation. She has now released the bee monster.

Truth be told, my monsters could probably populate an entire bed and mattress store. I am a bit of a nervous Nelly and struggle with keeping the ogres at bay. One monster reared its ugly head recently when the doctor told me I needed a brain MRI, with and without the dye injection. There are so many levels of anxiety with that simple statement. Small missile-like tube, lying still for an hour, dye injections, loud popping noises, PANIC! Yes, one can choose sedation, but my last round of sedation ended with a great deal of unpleasantness so I decided to face this truck head on, literally.

After a sleepless night, I dutifully crawled onto the missile slab, jammed a couple of earplugs into my ears and watched the technicians lower the football like helmet over my head. Their parting words were "Try to lie still and squeeze the ball if you need help." The smell of metal filled the air as the slab rolled its way into the mole passageway. The pops, bangs, snaps and vibrations began in earnest as I clutched my panic ball and willed myself not to have an anxiety attack. Lying still usually means an itchy nose, a tickle in the throat or a muscle spasm. Fortunately, I was spared any such movement-inducing events. I started singing every Sunday School song in my head that I could remember. A reminder that "Jesus loves the children of the world" and it is not good to "hide your light under a bushel, NO!"

After an eternity, the technician came into the room and started the dye injection. Another monster reminded me that I would surely have a reaction. I did not. But, I was disappointed when I was told that I was only half way through the testing process. One more time in the mole hole and a few more stanzas of "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know" and "He Owns the Cattle on a Thousand Hills." It also helped to remind myself that lying still isn't the worst job in the world. I imagined a nasty cleaning job and felt a new sense of relaxation in my muscles.

Finally, I heard the sweetest words ever. "You're done." Just in a nick of time as I felt my the cramp in my neck scream for relief. I carefully sat up in my fashionable tie-in-the-back gown and white harem pants. I wobbled my way past the next victim in the queue and congratulated myself for facing a couple of really big monsters.

And the really good news is:

1) I have a brain.
2) I do not have a tumor.
3) I have some empty real estate available under my bed.

Cheers to our monsters!