Stacie Ramey - Its My Life

Everythings different for girls like me.

My younger sister, Rena, would say Im being dramatic. As in, Stop being so dramatic, Jenna. Having CP doesnt make you the star of a telethon.

I always laugh when she says it, which is the whole point.

But right now, Rena and my best friend, Ben, are both at school, living their lives, while Im lying on a cold MRI table, bare-assed and covered in a skimpy hospital gown. See? Different.

And also maybe a little dramatic. I get that.

The door swings open. I hold my breath, hoping for Gary as my nurse today. I cannot deal with my yearly MRI with anyone else.

Hows my favorite girl? Garys voice reaches me, and I let my breath go, turning my head to shoot him my best Im-not-feeling- too -sorry-for-myself smile.

Garys tall and lean. Muscular, though. I can see those peeking out of his scrubs. Hes always changing his overall look, but now hes blond with a soul patch under his lip. He is dressed in his usual blue-gray hospital scrubsno dorky Disney scrubs for him, despite this being the pediatric wing. Weve known each other far too long, Gary and me. He was there for most of my surgeries and even the time I smashed Moms Waterford glass into my forehead during a muscle spasm, effectively ruining Passover. So, all the good times.

Hes wearing a Tree of Life necklace on a silver beaded chain and some other charm I cant make out. They clink together as he leans over me to prepare the straps they need to hold me in place. The sound is comforting, like church bells or something. Ive always been a sucker for spiritual stuff. You need anything? he asks.

I wouldnt turn down a trip to Florida and a good book, I joke.

Lets run away. We can leave out the back door, Gary says. This is one of our things. Im thinking North Carolina. Im sort of into mountains these days.

Good plan. Im pretty sure my body would terrify the beach-goers. I pull down my gown thats ridden up from all of his fiddling with the table, uncovering the most recent scars from my surgeries. If I was here with anyone but Gary, Id feel pretty exposed. With him I dont have to worry.

Gary scoffs. Girl, scars are sexy now. Totally in. Like tattoos and body piercings.

I laugh so hard I snort. Are snorts sexy now, too?

My left leg starts to spasm, pulling away from the straps. Gary launches into a story about his current boyfriend, Bryan, as he runs my leg through its range of motion, massages it, and puts it back into place.

Bryan is very pretty to look at, but is a diva to the nth degree, Gary tells me as he adjusts a pillow under my arm and cleans the area for the needle. I barely feel the IV line going in.

Its bad enough hes into all that new age, no-caffeine lifestyle for himself. Gary pauses for effect, his hand over his heart. But when he buys me coffee, its decaf!

I fake a gasp.

I know. You dont mess with a persons caffeine. Gary tapes my IV line in place. Im just going to inject the sedative now, then the contrast; it may feel a little cold.

This is one of the reasons I dont want these stupid tests. For normal people, it doesnt even hurt. For me, its liquid ice snaking through my veins, slow enough that the rebound pain is there at the same time as the first burn. I tense, and Gary squeezes my hand. I do not want to cry. Its a deal I made with myself years ago, back when I pretended I was Daddys little warrior.

Gary loads up a new playlist that Rena made for me called Songs for Enduring Stupid Pain , and he catches my gaze. Going to start now. You just close your eyes and go someplace better than this, baby girl. See you on the other side.

He pushes the button, and I slide into the tube. I close my eyes and try to breathe easy. The drugs in the IV help my muscles relax, but they arent enough to make me sleepwhich would make this entire deal easier.

As I wait for the first song to play, I try to guess which one Rena started with. Lets see, pain as the motif? So many choices. But instead of a song, her voice pipes in. Stay cool, Jenna. Its going to be fine.

Thats my sister being all Zen like usual.

Then my big brother Eric chimes in, Go get it! Ive got no idea how they managed that with him away at college.

Kick its ass, Rena says.

Stay out of the woods, Eric adds. Its an inside joke from when we were littlethe three of us and our neighbor Julian used to go to the nearby woods to look for animals and trees and mythical things, because I convinced them all if they were around us, thats where theyd be.

Rena laughs, and then the soulful sound of Michael Stipe singing Everybody Hurts fills my ears. I cant help but appreciate Renas choice on so many levels. The MRI clicks and thrums as the sedatives start to unclench the muscles in my head. Everything feels softer. Gary told me to leave my body, and in this tube I feel like I can. And I do. Soon Im flying through the air, through the clouds, feeling what its like to move free and easy, way above the hurt. Away from this body, to someplace better.

A familiar voice inside my head whispers, Its so easy. Its me, but its notI call this voice person Jennifer, and shes like the one I could have been. Free. Easy. Strong. Clear. I want to be her someday, and that possibility fills me until my head feels all light and my mind expands until Im flying even higher. And higher. And then I get a little queasy. My stomach backs up in my throat, and I swallow to get rid of the taste.