Scott got stuck with filling out yet another set of forms,
while I tried to capture the old Seattle homes with the
backdrop of the snow covered Cascade Mountains.
Ben even offered to take a picture of me. He made me smile. It was the last smile I had for about an hour. I looked into the tube, noticed it was about 1/2 the size of the PET scan tube, and noticed this horrible mask they were going to fasten on my face. The clausterphobia was causing me a lot of anxiety.
I told him through tears, "They don't tell you all this stuff when they sign you up for an MRI." He gave me a quick hug, then went out into the waiting room and said, "Mr. P., you need to come. Your wife is crying."
Scott began calming me down with Scripture and strict instructions not to open my eyes, even while I was just sitting there. He helped me wipe my nose, push up my sleeves for the IV, lay down and get comfortable. They had to pad around my head with foam cushions and put in ear plugs. I was feeling squished, and they hadn't even put on the mask yet. When he did fasten it on, I accidentlly opened my eyes and panicked a little. I asked for another moment. The kind technician took off the mast, allowed me to breathe a few more times, close my eyes and try again.