I had my first MRI today. I didn't like it at all. It was one of those "open scan" ones, but, ha! Whatever. I was still stuck on a big table with another big table hovering three inches above my nose, stretching around and beyond my entire body.
On the plus side, the sides were open so I was allowed to move my hands and arms (since they were only imaging my lumbar spine). On the negative side, I was forced to endure 30 minutes of James Taylor's greatest hits while immobilized. Read: no escape.
Now, I like dudes with guitars as much as the next guy or gal, but I like 'em better with beards. I don't know what it is about that - if you're a dude with a guitar and you don't have a beard and you write songs that are supposed to make people cry and turn their lives in a better direction? Well, yuck.
That is my (completely subjective) opinion.
Anyway, I experienced lots of panic. Not because I'm claustrophobic or anything. It's because of all the paperwork and warnings I had to read first. What if my tatoos had been done with ink containing traces of metals? They might start to burn uncomfortably and I wouldn't be able to move! What if a surgeon left a staple in me when they pulled Emma out of my belly? What then, I ask? Would it puncture my intestines on the way out? I forgot to take off my wedding ring. Would that matter at all? What if I swallowed a tiny piece of tin foil with supper? Would it sear the lining of my stomach as it tried to escape, pulled by the forces of the giant magnets?
That's the kind of panic I'm talking about.
My body stayed tense for 30 minutes. I could barely breathe and my chest kinda hurt. I suppose that was the anxiety. It would appear that, no matter how good I am at talking my brain out of being nervous or anxious or just plain not cool in a situation, my body will rebel and do whatever it wants to do.
So, I hated it.
But I had to get over it. Tonight, I am making two dozen cupcakes, eight chef hats and one birthday cake, and that's just the start.
The cupcakes go to Emma's class tomorrow, on her actual birthday.
The birthday cake - chocolate with white frosting - goes to Aunt Sarah and Uncle Jon's house for a birthday pizza party tomorrow night, along with one of the presents I am making for her.
The chef hats are for Saturday. They are party favors. Did I tell you yet that she chose Candy College at a chocolate shop in Hyde Park Village (Tampa's chic-est shopping district) as her birthday party? She and six other girls will be making the trek to learn about the chocolate-making process, and when they "graduate," they get to make their own treat. So, I am making them all chef hats. Because I have a make-something-for-everyone-all-the-time disease.
But the chef hats must be done tonight or tomorrow because I am making one more giant, cool birthday present. But I can't tell because Emma knows where to find my blog. So you'll just have to wait until Saturday, just like her.
But wish me luck. It's a little more advanced than anything I've tried before, and I'm a little worred about the investment I made in materials.
Wake-up Playlist: John Mayer, Gravity
Daily Bliss: chowing down on a vegan cupcake while I blog