Remember that broken right hand I had earlier this year? The complaints that the world isn\’t made for one-handed people? And how I always had to ask for help opening bottles? It\’s more than 4 months later and this morning I found myself in a MRI machine due my mom\’s overzealous colleague who had ordered the scan. For one hour.

I laid there face-down, feeling sick from being still (\”DO NOT MOVE!\” the technician repeated over and over — ok, maybe he had a gentler tone). The tech had earlier asked me what music I wanted to listen to and going off my recent nostalgia streak, \”80s?\”

So this long summer morning, I pretended to be a log, resting in a forest. To no avail really. I felt a sneeze coming on, but knew it would be bad to sneeze knowing full well I would have to do the entire scan again. So instead, I kept it in, breathing into the hospital-like pillow, wishing I could be anywhere else besides that lighted tunnel.