Mysterious Ways

An Unseen Hand

Shirley Palmer

WEST SPARTA, NEW YORK

I had breast cancer and needed an MRI. In the waiting room of the doc-tor’s office, I was filled with dread. I’d always struggled with claustropho-bia, and the idea of being in a tiny space with no room to move, bom-barded with the loud noise of the MRI machine, sent me into a panic. When the nurse called my name, I stood shakily. Dear Lord, please help me. I’m not sure I have the strength to get through this.

The MRI

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