X marks the spot

   Thanks to my friend Joan for schlepping me back & forth to the doc's this afternoon for another test on my hip. It was almost as much fun as the first one: all of the pain with none of the suspense. You know what you really don't want to see? A pen mark on your thigh telling the doc exactly where he should stab you with a giant needle.
I look like a pirate's treasure map: "dig here." ARRRRGH. He did a good job, though. The needle didn't even slam out the other side of my leg and turn me into a human shish kabob, which is nice. Not so nice:
I am fairly resistant to Lidocaine, which apparently is genetic. You win this round, genes.

   My favorite part was as I was leaving the waiting room to start the test, when the xray tech, Trevor, came to get me. Joan called out, "I don't want to hear any screaming back there!" And I said, "Hopefully it will be HIM and not ME!" One of the receptionists burst out laughing. Score.

   I also got Trevor pretty good, between the arthrogram and the MRI. The doc left and he said, "You did great! That wasn't so bad, was it?" And I emphatically said, "Thank GOD I've only got two hips!!"

   I've only drawn one cartoon so far and haven't scanned it yet (I mean, can you really beat that picture above?), so 'til then, please enjoy a recap of my first experience with an MRA.

   I've realized in these few months that I can manage the pain, at least for now, by changing my activities: less running, more swimming, and don't get all crazy with the yoga. Ankles do not necessarily belong behind your head anyway. Ironically, almost twenty miles of hiking in Maui didn't phase me, nor did all the walking, snorkeling and Scuba. What have we learned? Yes: I should live in Maui.
   Coincidentally, today Keion shared a quote by poet Lucille Clifton that seems appropriate: “Come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and failed.” So I polished off the evening with a fun chat, a long, hot bath and a glass of wine.

MR...I need to get outta here!!!

   Today was awesome. And by "awesome," I mean "completely not awesome." First off, I found out that I/T, while "fixing" my Blackberry, accidentally nuked all my emails prior to August 23, and I lost a ton of saved work that I'm going to have to re-do. Hmm. Kinda thought they'd back that up. Since we discussed it at length. Oops.

   Then in the afternoon I went for the MRI/arthrogram that my orthopedist called for, to see if I tore something important in my hip joint over the last 6 weeks, with all the running, swimming, yoga, hiking (that'll teach me to be healthy!) and massage (that'll teach me to be a hedonist!). I had an arthrogram on my carpal tunnel about 10 years ago, so fortunately the memory of how awful it was had faded. But it returned rather quickly, despite my attempt to be tough.

   The doc & technician were super-nice. They were very thorough in explaining what they were going to do; so thorough, in fact, that I almost fainted before the procedure even started. The gist is that they painstakingly mark a spot to guide them, numb you, and then insert a needle that I swear to God must have rivaled the size of the Space Needle, judging from the pain I felt over & over again as it was inserted. I found myself chanting, "not numb... not numb... not numb... NOT NUMB... NOT NUMB!!!" 

The doc didn't seem to believe me. His look said, "But I've given you PLENTY of numbing medicine!" Not plenty enough, mister! Are we trying to save money and skimp on the meds? Load me up!!! I don't know if he was hitting bone or what, but if I wanted to torture myself it would be much quicker to just stab myself in the eye with a fork. The point was to inject dye + Lidocaine into the tiny cavity between my femur & pelvis so that the labrum (which might be torn) would be more visible in the MRI. If the dye leaked out, it's surgery time.

   The one thing that was kinda cool (between deep breaths because it also brought me close to fainting) was to look up & see the needle & the dye illuminating my labrum on the x-ray monitor in front of me. They wouldn't let me take photos due to HIPAA (boo!) but I found a photo on Wiki that looks pretty much like it:

   Next I had to very carefully lift myself onto a gurney without moving my left hip, because if the dye moved too much it could botch the procedure & I'd have to do it all again. (Not going to happen.) The tech wheeled me into the MRI room, where it was impossible to see anything except the ginormous GE logo on the machine. Also, the tininess of the tube he intended to slide me into. I hope there's a Slip & Slide nearby so I can get some momentum going!

   The tech set a heavy breastplate on me (to hold me down???) that looked freakishly like the ribcage of a skeleton, as if to let me know what I would look like if the machine malfunctioned & burned off all my flesh. He kindly asked what radio station I liked & handed me a large pair of headphones. It didn't matter. The machine made so much noise that I couldn't hear it anyway. So I lay there perfectly still, eyes closed, imagining the creatures that would make the kind of noises I was hearing. If that's as good as hallucination gets, you can have it!

   I would recommend an MRI to anyone who hates quiet, loves cramming themselves into small spaces, and wants 35 minutes to feel like 3500 hours. Tune in for the exciting update next week.