I planned to do a post about my new year’s resolutions. I always vow to loose weight, be nicer to everyone, stop getting annoyed with other people in the supermarket or walking on the pavement, to be more helpful and kind to others, to do the ironing straight away instead of ignoring it until its piled sky high, to exercise more, I could go on and on, and I did toy with the idea that if I placed all of my resolutions in this blog where others could see them, then maybe I might keep to them. But now this blog has ended up being about something entirely different.
Last year ended in rather a strange way even for me. For on the day before New Year’s Eve, I spent nearly all day taking part in and experiencing things I had never ever experienced before. In a strange way its all about one of my favourite subjects, new technology. Dressed in a fetching cross over blue gown with ties, and headphones playing some sixties music, I journeyed down a narrow tube whilst laid on a bed. In my right arm, a cannula, in my left hand a switch to press. I entered into the tube head first.
The headphones playing ‘Standing in the Shadows of Love’ and other well love favourites of the sixties in my ears might just as well have been playing gobbledygook for all the use it was. I couldn’t hear any of it for the racket from the machine. I had my eyes tightly closed despite the fact that I don’t get claustrophobic. I didn’t want to know just how enclosed I was. Or how similar it felt to being in a coffin. Had they not said I would only be about twenty minutes? It seemed like I had been there, listening to the hums, thumps and throbs for hours.
At last I felt movement and emerged out of the tube. Praises were given. My gown remained on and my cannula stayed put for I had another new experience to come. Sat for an hour drinking some aniseed flavoured water from a plastic cup every quarter of an hour until a full litre had been drunk . Into another room and another bed, another machine, I was raised higher once laid down, into this machine legs first, a notice above as I enter stating emphatically ‘do not look at the laser’ or some such.
This one spins around and I tightly close my eyes. The bed moves forward. I keep deathly still.
“Breath in and hold!” a voice says. I comply, eyes squeezed tight, hoping it will tell me when to breath again. It does. A nurse comes and injects something into the cannula. I feel hot. Hot all over. Burning as if someone has set me on fire. A horrid taste enters my mouth. I don’t like this experience. “Breath in and hold!” a voice says. I comply. The burning slowly passes. The taste goes away. It’s finished. I am helped off the bed. I dress. The cannula is removed.
Ending the year with new experiences and new technology. It was interesting to say the least, though not one of my favourite adventures. I wonder what this year will bring?