Last month, I had to have an MRI. My wife suggested I take a Diazepam to calm me, but my gung-ho spirit brushed it off. Me?
As I was gently slid into the machine, right away I felt the panic rise. I tried to calm myself with some mindful breathing, whilst gripping onto the tiny ‘panic’ ball like a petulant infant. But seconds later, the feelings got so intense, I found myself squeezing it before the technician had even started the machine up.
I apologised profusely, wasting her precious time like that, but she was very understanding and suggested I make an appointment for the larger machine, and maybe take my wife’s advice on drugs next time.
The following days were odd for me. My usual confidence was doused, and a true feeling of humility followed me around. So much so, I even felt a panic attack surge up whilst going about my daily life. I’d had panic attacks before, but they were mainly stress related. This was claustrophobia – an actual phobia – so it made me question my own fallibility. Not something I’m used to and the experience had certainly punctured a hole in my mental fortitude.
That said, the experience did gift me a respect for passivity, an understanding for another’s silent ails, and a deeper understanding of my own brevity. We’re all living with something and those somethings can multiply over time. We must learn to be gentle with ourselves whist being brave enough to face our foibles with courage. We’re all we have, after all.