Lying inside the tube of a Magnetic Resonance Image machine today gave me plenty of time to think since there is nothing to do than hold your breath, lie quietly and wait for the next directive from the technician. The MRI doesn’t bother me as it does so many people and fortunately I am not claustrophobic so I was able to relax. After the first few images taken I began to focus on the three small windows directly above my eyes.
Looking at those three little windows I realized I was beginning to see them as a place where my memories became vivid images produced, not by my direct thinking, but through my subconscious.
The first image was the day I sadly realized that one more attempt to stop smoking failed. Smartly dressed in a gray Armani suit, silk tie and Italian loafers, I stood by my white, oval, marble desk in my office in the catering firm I ran. All morning long I became more and more agitated because M and I spent a fortune on the stop smoking patches that just came on the market. Even today, they claim they will be successful. As soon as I moved to the second, less potent level of the patch I realized the claim was a ruse. That day my addiction won again.
Next came scenes at the hypnotist, the appointment with the doctor who claimed success by giving smokers injections in their noses, another of me standing at a counter at Walgreen buying a fake cigarette to puff on, then on another day I returned to buy a package of filters for cigarettes that were to help. The images in those three little windows poignantly showed why I was in an MRI.
Now, the left lung lobectomy I have had begins a new trail. Yesterday’s cat scan showed possible lesions and maybe a blood clot in my lung. The new information reminded me that with each failure to stop smoking brought on gut wrenching worry for tomorrow. Yet, regardless of my worries, for years the addiction twisted my mind to continue while only being able to hope that in some tomorrow I could beat the odds.
I beat those odds ten years ago. Even though I did I wasn’t successful. I accept whatever my destiny will be. I wrote this path myself, although, it bothers me how my actions affect M, my sister and my family. If I am lucky all of this ends will end well for me and I will be so thankful.
But then again–
I need a plan, words, my love, my truth to give to them if or when——