Some of my 5 readers know I had a nasty accident back in January. I’m not going into details because by now the other 3 of you who read this blog are sick to death of hearing about it.
Let me just quickly note that even though the shoulder has healed nicely, the back is not healing and the pain and annoyance from the back spasms make me want to get in my car and drive it straight into a brick wall at 120 miles an hour. (just kidding, don’t put me on Suicide Watch).
So Monday I went back to the Doctor who in March increased my Valium for the same spasms and hobbled in to show him this is not working and he gets this great idea. Let’s go have an MRI done. Oh jinkies. Let’s put the world’s most claustrophobic, panic-stricken, anxiety-prone crazy woman into a machine that looks like a coffin and makes horrible banging noises. Yes, that’s a lovely idea. Sounds like loads of fun – I’d rather chew a dead rat, frankly.
Then he told me about an Open MRI so I won’t be totally enclosed. My blood pressure decreased, the sweat mustache on my lip dried, and I gave in and agreed to the procedure. Guess what? They have an appointment open the very next day – well at least I don’t have to sit around for a week and worry.
So – Tuesday morning at 9:30 I will be having all these weird magnetic images made of my lower back. With a little luck and some serious prayer the MRI will show whatever is causing these spasms and that it is treatable. Please.
I’m a complete and total whack job at the moment just thinking about this. Since I’m not really in the mood for chicken for dinner tonight I think I’ll just substitute Valium – I hear it has no carbs.
Diet be damned – when it’s over I’m making Devoted Spouse take me out for ice cream.
Wish me luck.