Into the Wilderness: Day 16

MRI in FOUR DAYS. I’m not real sure how to describe my MRIs as they relate to the wilderness journey. On one hand, they are like the dark cave one must enter on the wilderness path, not knowing what will be inside waiting. You can’t go over, under, or around. You must go through. You anticipate passing through, coming out into the light on the other side, checking yourself to make sure everything is still in place; all fingers accounted for, no creepy, crawly, critters hitching a ride, no vampire bat bites. In the circles I run in, we call it “scanxiety.” Yet, I find a strangely, disturbing delight on MRI days. There is something peaceful about lying there for 45 minutes; just me, my thoughts, God, and obnoxiously loud pings, bangs, whoops, and whamps. I suppose it’s knowing that this scan will get me one more quarter of a year until the next one. But, I think it’s more than that. I think there is something deep within us that longs for the truth of our lives. We want to know and be known. I deeply want to know what my brain looks like, and share that knowledge with others. Of course, in this case, I’m speaking of those pesky oligodendroglioma cells. But, on a broader level, I think we all want to make it out of the wilderness. We are content passing through the wilderness, as long as we come out of it whole, and are able to tell others of our journey we made.