Jet Plane.

“Oh look, it’s a giant Disney spaceship!”

“No, mummy, it’s not. It’s NOT a Disney spaceship.”

Going for an MRI scan can be very scary, even for adults. One has to stay very, very still and go through a very, very noisy tunnel to allow a powerful magnetic field to align the nuclear magnetization of ions in the body. The rotating magnetic field detected by the scanner then constructs an image of the body which the doctors interpret. To find out what was wrong, they had to do an MRI scan for Jordanna.

“Yes it is a spaceship, imagine… it’s a Disney spaceship…” Her mother was sharing with us how she coaxed her child. Even adults find it extremely unpleasant to go through an MRI scan. Some find it claustrophic and even require sedation.

But instead of squirming, throwing a tantrum or kicking a fuss like most kids would, little Jordanna merely said, “No, mummy, it’s not… it’s… IT’S A JETPLANE!! Like the one we saw on TV!!”

A jetplane.

So is this what courage sounds like- the ability to see all things from a different perspective.

These children from my Sunday School class just never fail to amaze me. Her courage makes my challenges and mountains seem altogether surmountable, altogether small.

The pain in my fracture is still there. Some people have still been worried about how I am coping. To be honest, I do miss being well. But I realise, that seeing this whole ordeal from an entirely different perspective has been most liberating, too.

When we find ourselves going through a black, scary, noisy tunnel, and are told to be still, to remain paralysed, do we find ourselves caught up in fear? Or can we, like little Jordanna, look at the ordeal from an entirely different perspective.

I realise, that seeing the world through the eyes of a child can be most refreshing.

It was not that she downplayed the situation or denied its reality. After all, private jetplanes can be very cramped, and very, very noisy at take-off, too.

Courage, I suppose, is the ability to accept reality and yet making the choice to see things differently.

Today, I tried deep-water running. It’s something my physiotherapist has recommended me to do. It involves tying a hydration belt around oneself and running against resistance, quite a tiring feat indeed.

The day she brought me to the pool to teach me this form of physiotherapy, I insisted it was most embarrassing. “Lean, Mean Triathlete” had now been reduced to a float-user in the pool, haa- like all the other elderly aunties in the public pool. (Yes, pride gets in the way.)

But today, looking through Jordanna’s eyes, I saw how it was merely, different. And it turned out to be quite fun. Refreshing.

Have you been forced into a place you don’t really want to be in, too? Are you made to do something you wish you didn’t have to? Are you forced to be still?

Close your eyes. In the face of Jordanna’s challenges, everything seems so small, now.

So now, when people ask me what I’ve been up to, how I’m coping, I simply smile. And wish I could tell them, “I’m on holiday, on a jet plane. And it feels quite… right. “