...and that's when I knew I was claustrophobic

I feel very fortunate to have lived a life free from any major sickness or injury. That being said, I've had my fair share of pain and discomfort that comes with an assortment of minor illnesses and conditions that require medical attention. Growing up riding horses and dancing, it seemed inevitable. Falling off a horse, or being stepped on and bitten, are all part of the package deal, just like blisters and bloody feet come along with serious ballet training. The day I dislocated my left knee cap during a PE soccer game in middle school was a bit of a turning point which lead to my first surgery. What I remember most about that experience was the extreme nausea I sustained as a result of the anesthesia. Waking up from a medically-induced sleep and vomiting almost instantly is not a fun experience, and that's when I knew I was semi-allergic to anesthesia. 

I had my wisdom teeth removed my freshman year of college. It wasn't a horrible experience, but I was quiet swollen, and it happened to be within a week of my birthday. I had feared a return of the nausea and was not looking forward to any post oral surgery vomits, but my worries were for nothing, and everything turned out well, until I tried to take Vicodin. My stomach did not react well at all to the powerful pain killer, and that's when I knew I could never be a drug addict.

During a routine visit to the dentist in 2010, they noticed white tissue on the underside of my tongue. Because I've never smoked a cigarette in my entire life (not once!), I was very annoyed and even angry at the potential of any oral cancer. During this same time, I was having horrible pain in my lower abdominal area consistent with ovarian cysts and possible endometriosis. This pain required a variety of different procedures including multiple ultrasounds (both external and internal) and a CT scan. My experience with the CT scan is not one I will quickly forget. Eventually, it was determined that taking a surgical look inside would be best to see what was causing the pain. As it turned out, I scheduled my tongue biopsy a few weeks prior to my laproscopy - because two medical procedures are more fun than one. Honestly, I was more nervous about the laproscopy than the biopsy, but soon learned I had misjudged the pain and pure discomfort of a tongue biopsy. For several days, I couldn't eat, could barely drink, and was becoming an expert drooler. Any slight movement of my tongue resulted in an unbearable amount of pain, and that's when I knew I had greatly underestimated the role of my tongue in every day life.

Being a ballerina for 12 years, I knew a day would come when I would pay the price for the hours of twisting, bending, and stretching. For as long as I can remember, I have had a constant ache in my hips - nothing that wasn't easily ignored, but just enough to tell me there was a problem. JC has been requesting for quite a while that I go get things checked out, and I have been putting it off simply because I already know there's something wrong. Finally, I gave in and visited an orthopedic hip specialist who took x-rays and announced there are signs of hip impingement syndrome in both hips. This required a closer look through an MRI with an injection of contrast. The doctor said they are only able to conduct the procedure on one hip at a time, so we decided to start with my left. I was very relieved that I would not have to relive the horror of drinking barium, and for some reason, I thought the injection with be much like a vaccine shot into the side of my hip. Of course, I made the mistake of conducting a bit of research on the internet and learned the contrast is actually injected through a large needle straight into the hip socket. Awesome. It was a very unpleasant experience. Although it wasn't necessarily painful, the sensation of a needle touching my bones was terrible. After the contrast fluid was sufficiently injected, I was off to the MRI. The technicians quickly strapped me into place, tying my feet together in a pigeon-toed position to effectively open the hip, and I was given earplugs, headphones, and an emergency button to push if I need to stop the test at any time. Then, into the machine I went, and that's when I knew I was claustrophobic. I truly didn't think I'd have any problem with an MRI, but I would be lying if I didn't contemplate pushing that emergency button within the first 30 seconds. Of course, I knew that if I stopped, I would just have to start all over again. So, I managed to slow my breathing, close my eyes, and focus on the music in my headphones. I honestly don't know how long I was in the machine, but I was definitely relieved when it was all over. 

I am very grateful for the wonders of modern medicine and the various resources available to doctors in order to diagnose the causes of pain and sickness.  I am also extremely glad I do not have to frequent these sorts of tests on a regular basis;but, I know many people who do, including my own mother. It seems like a necessary evil, having to withstand a high level of discomfort in order to appropriately deal with a constant issue. In the end, it really all boils down to an increase of knowledge about ourselves and our bodies that we may not otherwise be able to obtain.