breathe in, breathe out

Okay, work with me on this one. I had to be at the south campus of Franciscan St. Francis Health this morning at 7:15 for a 7:45 MRI. No biggie. Nothing I had to put my big man pants on for, simply to take them off in a 2′ x 2′ dressing room to put on pajamas. MRI’s are really pretty blow and go for those of you who’ve ever been party to one. For those who are not familiar with this in-depth brain (for me) imaging technique, think back to the movie The Exorcist. Remember when Reagan was taken in for a electroencephalography? That was my first experience 50 years ago with a brain scan. Just for some fun, though, here’s a refresher:

You’ll be glad to know the technology has grown immeasurably over the last 50 years or so since my first one. The noise, however, is still rather distracting, even with earplugs.

Very brief backstory: Been having some neurological problems somewhat recently that caused my neurologist (appropriately enough) to raise his abundant eyebrows and say “I think we should look into this further. When was the last time you had an MRI.” Never mind that my insurance company pays the man (my attorney: “no names in this post, please.”) all kinds of filthy lucre for him to keep that info in his files. Or perhaps it was a test and he was just wanting to see if I recalled any finer details of the last 15 years.

So, I went in today and slid in under the wire. instead of going in at 7:45, I got in at 7:20. I was out very shortly after 8:00. Since my ride home wasn’t going to be there until around 10:00, I actually had some time all to myself. No blogging, no vacuuming, no walking the dogs, no stocking shelves at the club, no on the way to somewhere else, no doing the dishes, and best of all, no thinking I should be doing any of those things. So I got myself a cup of French roast coffee and a blueberry cream cheese something-or-other at a cafe, and simply sat at a table and read a mystery on my tablet until my wife picked me up out front a little after 10:00.

And I think I’m a little uncomfortable with this next thought and I don’t want to chew on it for too long, but here’s what I got to pondering: When was the last time I honestly had any peace — real peace — in my life? I think I need to find a way to accept peace on different terms. Or find something that looks and feels like peace that I can live with and be willing to accept.

Perhaps that all sounded a bit harsh. When’s the last time I had any time for myself? Oh… that sounded a bit selfish, didn’t it. I’m beginning to feel a bit trapped in here. Joy and I watched Lipstick & Liquor: Secrets in the Suburbs last night, and just as the title indicates, the movie is about alcoholic women in the suburbs, I still identify strongly with the lives portrayed in it.

 

This entry was posted in bulletproof on by .

About greg w

I believe chocolate in virtually any configuration is the finest dessert in the history of mankind. I believe my wife is the sexiest woman in the world. I believe modern capitalism will never be replaced by a different -- or better -- form of economics. I believe in clutch hitting in baseball. I believe the Kimber 1911 .45 ACP is the finest handgun ever made in America. I believe the Mossberg Flex 500 pump-action 12 gauge shotgun is the best home defense ever made in America. I believe Tom Waits is the best song writer of my generation. I believe unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers. As CS Lewis once beautifully wrote, I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else. I believe that, on balance, Christianity has done more good for humans than bad. I believe it is better to tell the truth than a lie. I believe it is better to be free than to be a slave. I believe it is better to know than to be ignorant. And I believe if I yell at the TV during a Colts game, they will play better.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s