So I went to see my family doctor today, expecting him to declare me on track to recovery from pneumonia, and send me on my way. My brother Joe did the driving, as I still get winded from exertions like driving a truck with no power steering.

I left Joe in the waiting room and went in. The doctor tested my pulse ox – oxygen saturation – and declared that it wasn’t very good. He listened to my chest and took my temp, etc. Then he said I needed a CT Scan of my chest, because I was at risk of blood clots in my lungs and that would be a diagnosis not to be missed.

Have you ever had one of these scans? I did, a long time ago, when I was in college. About 23 years ago, in fact. It wasn’t fun. I wasn’t looking forward to my next one.

I don’t consider myself exactly claustrophobic, but after the first pass into The Tube, which was apparently just for practice, I decided it was time for some defensive mental effort. I thought about this as the technician pulled me out and drove a hollow railroad spike into the inside of my elbow, for the purpose of pumping me full of dye.

I was told that this dye was for contrast. I don’t know why it was necessary, though. I could have given them a couple hundred words on contrast. The contrast between the oblivious mind I had before the visit to my doctor and the mind of fear I had on meeting The Tube, for example. The contrast between an afternoon watching the rustling of Jacaranda leaves and one spent in traffic. We could’ve gone Zen … the butterfly contrasted with the temple bell. A nice little essay, no charge, just let me go home.

“Yow!” I said.

She explained that the vein in that arm wasn’t working, so we tried the other. What the hell? I’ve got a vein that’s taking Wednesday afternoon off? If I’m here, I want all my veins bloody well on duty, no slackers. Someone’s going to hear about this.

When I went into The Tube the second time, I closed my eyes and pretended I was resting on a nice comfy couch in a pleasant room with plants and an open window. I wasn’t in a Tube.

“I’m not going in The Tube,” I thought. No sir.

This helped. I breathed as instructed and was soon freed from the confines of the comfy couch.

As we were leaving, I confessed to Joe that I was afraid of what they might find with this amazing technology. Blood clots, blocked arteries, a heart the size of a volleyball. Being overweight takes its toll. But the doctor called in a hour and all I have is pneumonia, which I knew, and which I’m living with for today.

Thanks for driving, Joe. Thanks for the break, God.