Don't Drink the Barium.

I had the "opportunity" to learn about the art of the CT Scan yesterday.  The actual procedure, itself, was easy, and quite relaxing (although the warming sensation produced by the injection of dye through an iv was a bit disconcerting).  However, approximately two hours prior to the actual scan, I was charged with the task of drinking two 30 oz. containers of Barium Sulfide Contrasting Solution.  In the words of Judy Gellar, regarding Rachel Green's attempt at an English trifle (in one of the best episodes of "Friends"), "It did not taste good."  


When I initially stared down the two bottles of liquid, I took calm in imagining that they certainly wouldn't be worse than the orange-y flavored stuff I had to drink when pregnant to check my glucose level.  HA!  The kind manufacturers of this barium nightmare tried very hard to give it an orange flavor, but wound up simply giving me nausea.  I would've rather had the straight stuff, sans flavoring, I think...at least, then, I could've pretended it was just water (kind of).


Nevertheless, the CT Scan revealed mostly good things--I didn't need to have the appendectomy that my PCP had feared I might, which allowed me to go home, rather than to the hospital, following the scan.  Hooray!


Now, maybe it's because I am a barista, and because I take full advantage of having all Starbucks beverage ingredients before me when I concoct new drinks for myself.  Or maybe it's because I just drank 60oz. of barium nonsense (which still doesn't hold a candle to the 4 liters of nonsense that folks have to drink pre-colonoscopy, by the way).  Regardless, I am now thinking about that whole water-into-wine business that appears (only!) in John's gospel.


I mean, come on...how cool is that?  What if I could've just turned my barium into, say, chocolate milk?!  (By the way, I'm pretty sure that a well-executed chocolate milk is the best beverage on the planet, except on a hot day...) I just think it's amazing that the entire elemental core of something could just change like that, and yet, frequently, people hardly bat an eye at it.  Now, granted, the ol' switcheroo might pale in comparison to, say, resurrection, but  come on: if you didn't have the benefit of reading on to the next miracle, and the one after that, you would probably be pretty impressed by this, the first miracle that Jesus performed (according to John, anyhow).  


I'm thinking that, perhaps, I need to start living with that concept in mind.  I'm so not good at living in the moment. I  always scoffed (at least, in action) at the quote "today is a gift, and that's why it's called the present."  And for me, a pun-lover, bar none, that's saying something!  But, the reality is that I'm a dreamer.  I'm constantly thinking about tomorrow--and ten years from now.  I married someone with his feet planted very firmly on the ground, which is great and helpful and all, but I still can't totally shake my internal time machine of sorts (or whatever).  But, if I just took a few moments to appreciate the beauty, the mystery, the gift of today, then I'd very likely be privy to the miraculous, day-in and day-out.


How I got here from there, I'll never really know.  Welcome to my crazy brain...