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# Sound Bath
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/sound-bath/
- Published: 2026-03-30T13:43:22.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-24T20:10:10.000Z
- Description: “Sound Bath,” a dry humor take on my search for a soothing spa experience while paying through the nose for an out of pocket preventative medical appointment. Written March 30, poem 089 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo by Diana Ludwick (c) 2026. Photo: "Skeletal Panda
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Dry Humor, Humor, Long form musings, Petty, Poems, Apple Music, Breast Health, CALMER!, Discomfort, Eyeroll, Healthcare, Hello, March, MRI, Polite Pain, Preventative Medical Care, Racing Thoughts, Rant, Relax, Sound Bath, Spa, Women, #Migrated-1792872215677, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-10-24 20:03

It's midday on a Wednesday  
when I enter an exclusive building.  
My eyes adjust to the dark interior.  
I walk towards the host desk.  
  
I'm greeted   
by soothing voices:  
"Sit there and relax   
until we're ready for you."  
  
When they summon me,   
I pre-pay for my experience.  
Better to get the pain of price  
out of the way; the feeling's mutual.  
  
I am ushered into  
a dimly-lit room, given a robe.  
"Valuables, in the locker there.  
Here's a key for your use."  
  
My assigned Activities Director  
conducts a brief assessment.  
She asks if I fear tight spaces.  
*No*, I reply. "Great," she closes.  
  
"Let's get started!   
Follow me." So chipper.  
She leads me into the room  
where the magic happens.   
  
She asks me to disrobe  
helps me lay down   
on an oddly shaped table,  
place my face through a hole.  
  
"I thought this would feel  
more calming." I quip,  
not sure what else to say.  
I see her sneer, her lip tight.  
  
I let my head fall deeply  
into the cradle. I purposefully  
release my muscle groups,  
yielding to the table.  
  
"Put your arms up here."  
She points; I presume.  
Though I can't see,   
I obey her.  
  
"Now, re-laaaaax.   
Don't move.   
Stay still!"  
  
"Make slow, shallow breaths.  
Don't talk.  
Just *be*."  
  
Very new age.   
OK I'll try.  
I melt deeper into the table.  
Me time!   
Finally.  
I'm still edgy.   
I close my eyes.   
  
"Would you like music?"  
"Sure."   
I shrug horizontally.  
"Don't *move*!"  
  
"Right."   
"Don't *Talk*!"   
"*Mmmh*."  
I feel earphones shoved  
onto my ears. *Omph*.  
  
A classical symphony   
crackles in my ears.   
Chopin?  
Anyway.   
  
So far, it's less peaceful than  
I had imagined. Oh well.  
You're burning dollars, regardless.  
 *So enjoy it!* I scold myself.  
  
"We'll begin shortly.  
Be calm! Gentle breaths."  
I roll my closed eyes.  
*OK I got it!* I think.  
  
She rolls my table forward.  
"I'll set up now," she narrates.  
*Enough with the exposition!*  
I snark inwardly. Let's gooooo.  
  
"We'll do a series of four,  
and five-minute durations."  
She continues.   
"*Mmmph*."   
I reply, weakly, head-down.  
  
I attempt the challenge of   
"calm, shallow breaths."   
It feels oxymoronic.  
I'm not certain I'm nailing it.  
  
"We'll begin!" She states.  
I hear a fuzzy whirring   
all around me  
as sounds encircle me.  
  
**DUH!-DUH!-DUH!-DUH!-DUH**!  
My brain fills with base.   
Hmm. This sound bath is...  
a little intense.  
  
"CALMER!" she commands.  
*Not sure that helps me, either.* 
  
**Di!-deie!-di!-deie!-di-deie*!*  
My body is awash in noise.  
  
**UMPZH!-UMphz!-UMPZH*!*  
Percussive jolts surround me,  
as if my heart is beating   
on the surface of my skin  
instead of inside my ribs.  
  
**Nauh-Naugh-Nuaght-Naughhh**  
Why am I so wired?  
This is just like me, unable to chill.  
This is my moment to rest.  
Can't I ever turn off my thoughts?  
  
***Buuhn!-Buuhn!-Buuhn!-Buhhn!***  
I wanna rock my head to the beat.  
I also don't want her to yell at me.  
  
***Umpz!-umpz!-umpz!-umpz***!  
My chest plate aches   
from its spot lodged on the table.  
I guess I can't move, I reason.  
  
***Tii!-Tii!-Tii!-Dnmph-Tii-Tii!***  
So, OK, I feel silly now.  
I'm not convinced I like this...  
Surely not $500 well-spent.  
  
***Bauht!-Bauht!-Bauht!-Bauht!***  
Maybe I can get my money back?  
I'd ask her, but...  
She was insistent I stay quiet.   
A little strict on it, really.  
  
**Dunnmh-Dunmh-Dunmh-Dunmh**  
My whole torso feels numb now.  
My forehead definitely has a  
deep pressure mark up the middle.  
I am waning in my desire to be here.  
  
My ears   
 feel like   
 they're   
 bleeding.  
  
**Mnnh!-Mnnh!-Mnnh!-Mnhh!**  
  
And   
then, finally, blessedly:  
  
**s i l e n c e.**  
  
I feel my table roll back.  
Neither celebrating  
nor chastising me,   
she says simply:   
"You are done."  
  
Well that was abrupt.  
"Um, is there a sauna   
or something?" I bargain.  
I'm not ready to return  
to the land of Wednesday.  
  
She frowns at me. "No."  
"Your results come in a week.   
Refer to your medical portal.  
Get dressed, take your key."  
  
I go gather my belongings:  
my metallic ring and earrings.  
my silver ion threaded yoga pants.  
my underwire bra.  
  
As I grab my purse, my iwatch,  
my car key, my phone,   
I become bionic once more,  
inseparable from tech.  
  
I exit the restricted MRI suite,  
traipse through a nondescript   
Radiology lobby, and  
enter the sunny parking lot.   
  
In three to five business days  
I'll learn if my little med spa  
excursion was worth the hassle.  
  
(My money's on "Normal,"   
because that's what I get   
for paying hundreds of bucks  
out of pocket to verify my health.  
Chump!)  
  
While we wait for absolution,  
me and my *extremely dense breast*s  
back out of our spot   
and merge onto the open highway.  
  
For our road trip,   
we blast the song   
*Hello*   
by Martin Solveig and Dragonette  
on Apple Music CarPlay.  
  
***Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-du-duh!***   
The beat; it's catchy.   
Sticks with you.  
Like a sound bath.  
  
  
\= = =  
(Spoiler alert: I'm fine.)