Half an hour inside a giant toilet roll?

A short post this morning just before I head off to face (one of) my fears.

I’m more than just a little bit claustrophobic. I think I had my first thing resembling a mild panic attack while on a trip on the family boat.  Probably not even aged 10.  There I was, spending the night in the small, pointy bow cabin, inside a sleeping bag (probably brown with an orange inside, retro style), door closed behind me, hatch shut above me.  Condensation running down the inside of the fibre-glass coffin structure of the yacht.  And, bang, there it was, panic stations!! That feeling of being trapped, walls coming closer, sweat, heart thumping.

Loved our family holidays.

Anyway, catch me on any camping trip ever since and you will have noticed that I never sleep in a sleeping bag.  Oh no.  I have to unzip it, fully lay it out and then get underneath, thus allowing for easy escape should the canvas walls of the tent start moving.  And you know those sleeping bags that you are supposed to pull right up over your head, like a hood?  Please, somebody, just shoot me now.

Anyway, I haven’t woken up this morning reviewing sleeping bags for Camping Monthly.  No, something much more fun!

Me and my claustrophobia are off to spend the morning inside a giant toilet roll, also known as an MRI scanner.  Yesterday, we finally managed to see a fabulous consultant in relation to my slipped disc. The little spongy disc which has put my life on hold and resulted in me doubting that I will ever feel well and pain-free again.  An MRI scan is the next step.  I asked “how long will I be in it?”, expecting an answer like “4 minutes”.  The length of a song, hopefully blaring loudly into my headphones, thus drowning out the sound of my own heart exploding.

“Half an hour” he replied.

How we laughed!

I am trying to think of it as a spa treatment but in reality I am terrified.  I know that I will ‘man-up’ once there but this really is a bit of a nightmare.

Will be cool to see my insides, I guess, and interesting to view the little bugger that has caused merry hell since May.  I wonder if they’ll be able to see a brain in there too, or just a gaping hole where my intelligence used to lie, pre-baby.

So, here I go, 30 minutes inside the big toilet roll.  This is the first step towards getting this sorted.  So, I will be brave, it will be worth it.  Just lie back and think of Scotland.