When I was initiated into my college fraternity the final test was the "Black Hole" into which the upper class "Bothers" piled the pledges. Many a boy broke in the "Black Hole" under the weight and closeness of the crammed in mass of hormonal humanity, but more broke with their first experience with claustrophobia.

Since that time I have been plagued and haunted by its sudden on set. Be it in a packed unmoving subway car, tunnel or elevator

Last week I had the quintessential encounter with the black hole.  After suffering back and hip pain throughout the softball season and putting off diagnosis, the time had come. Of course, that meant submitting to a dreaded MRI.

Before the appointed date I took the precaution of asking my doctor to prescribe calming Xanax.  As evidenced by the accompanying picture, the MRI was long, narrow and dark.  However, I knew I had to submit to it.

So I took two of the three Xanax pills and asked for an eye shade.

Initially, I had pangs of claustrophobia, but I told myself I had to do this. Thus, I gathered myself and sent my mind on the routes of runs that I used to make and thoughts of my sweet puppy Charcoal. After a while I was into it, as long as I didn't move the eyeshade. It was a triumph of will: I was in a world of my own.

In about 25 minutes it was over and I must admit it was a piece of cake. However, I hope I never have to experience it again.

Worse than a colonoscopy?