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For weeks I have been dreading getting an MRI.  I have grilled everyone I know to find out how it was for them, if they felt claustrophobic, etc.  In fact I put it off once or twice.  Then I bit the bullet and told myself that with all my yoga and breathing background, I should be able to relax and focus on my third eye, or at least zone out.  My yogic friends assured me I could do that, no problem.

The day before the MRI I asked the Rite Aid pharmacist to call my doctor (who wasn’t returning my calls) to okay some valium, and one hour before the procedure I picked it up.  A very low dose, just in case.

That was my deciding moment — to ingest or not.  I could hear my herbalist friends saying take hops, or valerian root or rescue remedy.  I think that herbs are often the way to go.  Maybe I could get a massage right before the procedure, or have someone massaging my feet while I lay there to help me relax and stay still.  I had gone there several weeks earlier to see the room and the MRI “thing”, as I called it.  It didn’t look as much like a coffin as I feared, but I still found it almost impossible to envision me in it!  It was going to take an act of magic for that to happen, I thought.

The closer we got to the hospital, the closer the drug got to my mouth.  Especially when I heard herbalist Susun Weed in my head saying how overused x-rays and imaging are in the United States, and how potentially damaging they are.  I had to block her voice somehow. I would rush home and eat seaweed to help detoxify!

In most cases, I would rather experience an event raw and undrugged and pay attention to the experience in all its nuances. But since I still felt affected by t he car accident several months earlier, I thought I might be unusually on edge.

Ten blocks from the hospital, down it went.  I wasn’t really aware of any shift in my way of being or my perspective.   I was fine with the whole experience, especially after I told the radiologist to keep me informed regarding what he was doing.  The earplugs were helpful, actually necessary.  The loud, stacatto banging noises I still heard I used as percussion for some choreography and for planning my next yoga class.

It was over fairly soon and I was impressed how little the drug had affected me.  I think it made it easier for everyone, and other than tripping over a rose bush the next morning, and sliding down the hill in my backyard, it was an overall positive experience!

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