Five Minute Friday: Long

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Gentle Reader,

It’s Friday. It’s five minutes. It’s Kate and the crew.

Go.

“JesushelpmeJesushelpmeJesushelpmeJesushelpmeJesushelpmeJesushelpme.”

That’s about all that went through my mind as they strapped me down and shoved me into the MRI machine. Seriously. They STRAPPED ME DOWN. Nobody told me that was going to happen. For a moment I felt like I was being carted off to the asylum. And, honestly, with the panic I felt…might not have been a bad idea.

When all this started in May, I knew an MRI was probably in my not-so-distant future. I tried not to think about it. Hanging out in a plastic tube has never been my idea of a good time.

Thank God for blessing me with a sense of humor. As the long, long, loooooooooong minutes dragged by and I was instructed to hold my breath more times than I can count, I started to notice something about the disturbingly loud noises emanating from said plastic tube.

You guys, I heard light sabers.

I’m not kidding.

I think I stumbled onto the set of the next Star Wars film.

Then they dropped the beat and it was like a Justin Timberlake concert. Or a little bit like this: