Here’s the thing – I love cozy little spaces that I make for myself and have control over. I love book nooks and beds tucked sweetly into small spaces. I’m forever trying to find a way to set up my desk or sewing area in a closet. The snug, safe feeling of these spaces gives me a warm and happy feeling. …However… I am also EXTREMELY claustrophobic. Like, to the point of having panic attacks in places most people wouldn’t think twice about. Sometimes when I begin thinking about it, I even get a claustrophobic feeling just being inside our home or not being near an ocean. The feeling is real and big and scary.
So, when I needed to get an MRI for a head issue, I was not a happy camper. The issue wasn’t necessarily urgent…unless, of course, it was. I wouldn’t know until I got the MRI. I was scared out of my mind, and it initially took me three months, but I went in. I’d found an “open MRI” in the area and was thrilled that this could be an option I could work with. I listened to a meditation podcast; I’d asked a lot of questions ahead of time; I was ready. The tech placed my head in the – let’s just call it what it was – cage, and started sending me into the machine. I’d like to say I lasted two whole seconds in there, but I don’t think I got that far. I screamed to be let out. And that was that. (For the record, unless I was going to be lying on my side, which I wasn’t, the “open” MRI felt more claustrophobic than the tunnel one – to me, at least.)
My nurse practitioner worked to get me a CT-Scan instead, which wasn’t fun (the contrast portion of the scan was the worst), but I made it through. The great news was that everything looked normal! The bummer news was that the neurologist listened to my issue and said I’d definitely need an MRI for a better picture and to make sure everything was okay.
And then, I found every reason on the planet to put it off. Maybe I could ‘solve’ this problem on my own? Was it just my imagination, or were things seeming better? And then there was the Covid excuse. I’d conveniently forget about making this appointment when numbers were low, and then when numbers spiked, I felt justified in putting the MRI off a little longer. It wasn’t that I was casual about this procrastination. Not at all. I spent many, many nights suffering with head pains and panicking about all the unknowns. But, to me, getting into an MRI machine felt like the equivalent of asking someone who is afraid of heights (me, also) to stand on the ledge of a very tall building while the scan was being performed. It felt truly terrifying.
But when problems began occurring again, and with my worst-case-scenario mind, there was no way I could put it off any longer. ONE YEAR after speaking with the neurologist, I finally took solid steps to make this MRI happen. It really came down to my kids. If there was something wrong, I had to find out before it was too late.
Here’s what I did to prepare:
–Early on, I spoke with one of my best friends who has had to have many MRIs for way bigger reasons than I was dealing with. She was so wonderful though about listening to my fears and concerns and offering me the support I needed. She explained step-by-step how an MRI typically went for her. She offered helpful tips and thoughts and was a constant source of love and understanding through my whole journey.
–My NP had offered anti-anxiety medicine as an option from the beginning. As somebody who can be skeptical about taking medication, I was strongly against this. But more than that really, I had this fear that if I took medication that relaxed me enough to get into the machine, that I would later have terrifying flashbacks of being in there, as if I’d tricked myself into being okay with that situation. I know it sounds strange if you’re not as claustrophobic as I am, but it was a real fear. But, when I knew I was really going to put my best effort into doing this, I accepted the prescription. She suggested I take one tablet ahead of time to see which dose was a right amount for me, but this idea did not thrill me. I don’t like the thought of not being in control, and that’s what this sounded like. BUT…I also didn’t want to go into the appointment and not be able to go through with the actual MRI. So, I tested out a half a tablet three days before the appointment. It didn’t seem to be enough for me to do this super-scary thing, so I added another half, and as I was singing myself to sleep, I realized I’d hit the perfect amount.
–I researched the MRI facilities covered by my insurance and found a good fit. Besides my claustrophobia, the first facility I’d gone to was not a good match for me. I didn’t get a good vibe from the people there, they had complete disregard for Covid safety at a time when they REALLY should have, and it wasn’t where I wanted to be for such a big thing. I found a promising place and called to ask if I could come see the machine before the appointment. Their willingness to let me do this was a great sign. I wasn’t so sure as I sat in the waiting room. My mind was ready to make excuses to put this off even longer, as much as I wanted it to finally be done. But the tech who met with me was terrific. He showed me the machine. I took a picture of it and wrote down the model and make. He talked about how the scan would go. I asked my list of questions from my notebook. It all made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could do this. I was sure to ask him specifically what days and times he worked, because even though he spoke highly of the other techs, I knew that going into this big, scary thing with at least some familiarity of a person I already knew I liked, would be very helpful.
–I did a lot of online research. I searched for articles and posts (like the one I’m writing now) by people who were terrified of having an MRI and were able to do it. I looked at lots of pictures of machines online. Sometimes they didn’t seem so bad and I’d wonder what I was so worried about. But then the thought of being inside would make me shudder. It did help me start to visualize though. I would also listen to noises of what it sounds like in the machine, because it wasn’t just the claustrophobic tunnel; it was the head cage and the loud noises and yes, of course, the results, that made me overflow with nerves and panic.
–I wrote down mantras and I chanted them over and over. The kids were used to hearing me say these throughout the day. I said them when I took my ‘practice’ medication. These are what I would cling to during the scan. (I kid you not. My kids have a small expandable play tunnel, and I would practice lying in there and saying these mantras.)
THE BIG DAY
Here’s what I did on the day of the appointment:
–We only have one car and no babysitters, so that meant this was going to be a family trip. In the car, at least. My husband and the kids would wait in the car while I went in to do this. I made sure there were snacks and water for the kids (Ok, actually my husband did that). But I made sure that I had not one, but two gifts for the kids to give to me after my appointment – a book I’d been wanting and not letting myself look at until after this appointment and a darling cuddly dragon doll. The kids had been so supportive, and I knew they’d be excited to give me these when I was done.
–I took half a tablet of my medication one hour before my appointment and the other half on the way there. I had also cut one tablet into fourths and so I ended up taking another one-fourth when I got there as well. I did not want to leave without having this MRI.
–I made sure to take my ring off ahead of time and I wore clothes with no metal, so that I could stay in my own comfortable outfit.
–I had found out from the tech during my meeting with him that they offer a little mirror placed on the head cage so that the person can see out. YES!! This was a game-changer for me. I had called ahead of time to double-check this was an option and that I didn’t have to give extra notice about this. Fortunately, the tech was so super great about making sure I was comfortable, making sure I had the mirror in place, re-explaining how everything would go and how long it would take, giving me ear plugs for the noise, showing me the emergency call button. And then… it was time. And, I. Was. Ready!
The Scan!
After all my fears about getting into the machine, I now thought of new ones. I’d spent the night singing to myself while testing the medication and I’d just been singing to myself in the lobby (yes, I was that crazy lady). But, I was told I couldn’t really make noise or move during the scan. Oh, no. What if my singing just came pouring out? What if I was so relaxed that I fell asleep and my head moved or I started snoring? eeps!
Fortunately though, none of that happened. I had a sing-free, snore-free scan. Whew!
It went quicker than I thought. Not that it was fast, but after years of build-up, it really was only about 25 minutes. I made a choice when I was getting sent in that I would not, WOULD. NOT. look up at the actual machine. I looked at the mirror and my toes and the tech getting started. But, after that, I just closed my eyes. The noises were loud and each scan had a different strange set of sounds. But, oddly (ahem, medication), my mind started picturing shapes and dances to each of these bizarre soundtracks. I focused on my breath and said my mantras, especially as I was going in, but once it started, I didn’t even feel like I needed to rely on these.
Pretty soon the tech was wheeling me out to put in the contrast, and I knew then (from my many questions and reviewing all my notes several times and him reminding me) that I was now almost done. The contrast was way easier than the CT-Scan contrast – thank goodness. (No sensation of feeling like I’d peed myself.). And then, that was it! I was out!!
Done!!
I was SO, SO proud of myself and SO relieved.
The next step, of course, was waiting for the results, which, I had really tried not to think about too much ahead of time. Now they consumed my every thought. And, of course, I got my scan on a Friday afternoon. And, of course, it was a holiday weekend. And, of course, my doctor’s office couldn’t post the results until my NP had looked at them and she was out of town that week. But, I was finally able to log on to the MRI office’s site to see them. And, thank you to the Universe and all that is Good, everything was normal.
Getting this MRI scan that most people would probably just check off on a lunch break was a huge, huge deal for me. From the time I first talked to an NP about what was going on (We had recently moved and didn’t even have medical professionals in the area yet) to the time I actually got the scan was about two years. I’m beyond grateful that my results were normal (not that we’ve necessarily solved what’s going on, but ruling out some major health issues is such an enormous relief). And not carrying around the weight of this impending MRI scan is an incredible feeling.
So, this is the post I wish I could have read while gearing up for this, and I share it here now in the hopes that it can find its way to someone else who might be scouring the Internet like I was for some sort of advice on how a claustrophobic person can make it through an MRI scan. And while I don’t know you or your situation, I want to let you know that I DO believe in you. If this is a big deal for you, then your feelings are valid. And maybe, just maybe, if an extremely claustrophobic person, like myself, can make it through, so can you!
