Tomorrow morning I’m going to slide into a dark tunnel, trapped in a tube so they can take pictures of my brain. I’ll be sedated, so I’m not terribly worried about the process (though I’m horrible at staying still and not fidgeting, so I expect the techs will be frustrated with me). I am a bit concerned about the outcome – not that they’ll find something (well, aside from my big, beautiful brain), but that I’ll go through this process and we’ll have no additional information about what’s going on in my head. Which means more doctors, more tests and more time in waiting rooms listening to women CLIP THEIR FINGERNAILS. Because yes, there are days when I’d prefer to have a brain tumor over listening to a woman groom herself.