MRI's and Manly Men

As a life long over-analyzer you would think I should have everything figured out by this time in life. It simply isn't the case. In fact nothing could be further from the truth. Take for instance my failures at the Imaging Center where I have been scheduled to have MRI's for a slightly bulged disc in my lower back. This was in hopes that a surgeon could perform a simple procedure to fix it. Microdiscetomy is the actual term. I hate to use words like that however, because people might think I'm smarter than I really am. Living up to that reputation would not possible for me. I was lucky to even spell it right. 

I've struggled on and off for five years with a bit of discomfort and rarely pain bad enough to register on the "Scale of One to Ten Chart" nurses get such a kick out of asking patients at clinics, hospitals, or sister-in-laws' houses. One fact no one who knows me will deny is I have the pain tolerance of a four-year-old girl. No offense to four-year-old girls. That's just my perception. When you see me sweating and wincing in obvious pain, it is likely equivalent to a stubbed toe or hangnail on an average person.

Several years ago I had my first MRI. I had no idea what to expect, so I had no fear of it either. During the short interview that preceded the MRI, the nice lady asked if I was claustrophobic. I answered, "Of course not" as I puffed out my chest in such a manly manner. "four-year-old girls are claustrophobic, not manly men such as myself" Her chuckle at my claim of manliness must have been induced by her years of experience working with patients like myself.  

Sparing you most of the embarrassing details, I will just say when the 24 minute test had finally completed and I was out of the tube, the scrubs they provided for my comfort were completely soaked with perspiration, my heart rate was 190, my blood pressure was 224/176 and I was now aware of the fact that I was indeed quite claustrophobic.

Later that afternoon I had an appointment to see the surgeon to talk about the details of the upcoming surgery. Instead of telling me when and where the surgery would take place, he entered the examination room and said, "I'd love for you to help me with my pick-up payment next month, but there's just no reason to do surgery. It's not bad enough. I do want you to tighten your core and lose 20 pounds. That should help that little bulge go right back where it belongs. Also, take fish oil as a supplement" Through my unmatched analytic ability, I translated what he said as, "Your tummy is too big and you look like a heart-attack waiting to happen" Thanks Doc, I do own a mirror you know.