Friday, November 9, 2012

Mayo Clinic Journal: Part One

Mayo Clinic journal part one. November 5-8, 2012.

It has taken my family awhile to urge me toward Mayo Clinic. I've been trying to trick myself into thinking that I didn't need this and the path I was taking was going to pan out somehow; this turned out not to be the case. Since August I have been trying not to be over-stimulated, as to not agitate my emotions and seizures. I've been off Facebook, blogging, even watching the news in fear of these outlets causing me to overflow.

Last week I laid next to Sara with my face in a pillow and agreed to seek treatment at Mayo. She worked to get me in and was resoundingly successful.


At Mayo, it's interesting because the hospital in connected to shopping malls and hotels via underground tunnels and skyways. I kept mentioning to nurses and doctors that I missed being outside to breathe fresh air; they would smile and reassure me that the weather was much better inside. We were there four nights and we got out only a couple times; we went to Target to buy new clothes for the next day (and the next) we didn't expect on being there.


I had two MRI's done while at Mayo. If you've never had an MRI, it's best for me to say "they're not so bad," even though they do take a bit of strength to get through. I'm slid into a tunnel while wearing a floppy hospital gown and paper socks with ear plugs installed. They tried to make me as comfortable as possible with foam wedges to support my back and head, (these also reduced movement on my part).

I closed my eyes loosely and tried to envision myself somewhere peaceful while the machine pulsed and whined for close to an hour. At first I saw myself walking along a hilly, wooded path that would open up to meadows of sheep or cows, but once the thought of my body being held down in the MRI, I began to feel anxious and afraid. This meant I should instead imagine myself somewhere without movement, watching a play or looking out a window on a train ride. That's exactly what I did; I saw myself sitting in a leather bench seat looking out a train window while crossing a huge bridge over a river. I saw the sheep on a hill and I noticed the grass looking bright green in comparison to the brown trees that were ready for winter. There were little towns in the distance and just before I could ask myself where the train was taking me, the technician was sliding me out of the machine. All I could do was smile.


(More soon)