The pain is still there. It's better mind you, but just about everything I try to do hurts from my neck down through my
My husband knew how bad it was the second or third night when he woke up to me pacing the floor crying at two in the morning.
"You're going to the doctor."
"What? You'll go?"
"I can't stand this. Yes, I'll go."
That's when he realized how much it hurt. You see, I don't go to the doctor. The last time he got me to go to the doctor for anything other than a routine checkup, was when I was
doubled over from pain in my right side. I'll never forget the look on his face as he held my hand and shook his head when they wheeled me in for surgery to have my gallbladder removed. It almost ruptured.
With that being said, I still don't know exactly what's wrong with my back, but our family doctor is great. She had x-rays taken, which indicated something was wrong so she made an appointment for an MRI. I had that done today.
If you've ever had an MRI, you know what this is like. If you haven't, picture lying on a hard, narrow bed, having your head locked in, then crossing your arms and being pushed back into a tiny, long white rabbit hole. All you can see is the
white that's in front of your face and they put headphones on so they can talk with you throughout the procedure.
It suddenly made sense why anyone I told that I had to get an MRI immediately asked, "Are you claustrophobic?" I'm not, but I can see how this tight, loud, pinhole tunnel could make someone freak out completely.
The man running the MRI had given me a call button to push if I needed anything. He said that I had to lie as still as possible and that he was going to play some music, then start the test.
White, white, white...everything was white. I didn't know whether to keep my eyes open or shut them. It hurt to lie
flat on the hard surface. My thoughts went from feeling stuck in a straw, to the pain in my back.
That's when it happened. I decided that I had one of two options. I could lie there the whole time, going crazy, or I could realize that everything was going to be okay. A small smile began to grow as 80's music suddenly filled my ears. I never realized how hard it was to listen to Duran Duran without being allowed to sing.
For at least 20 minutes or so, I got to lie there, uninterrupted. No kids fighting, no making dinner, cleaning,
going to work...nothing. It began to feel almost like a spa treatment, minus the pain.
When it was over, the guy pulled me out of the tunnel and helped me up. I went back to work, then home and began the nightly routine.
I hope that whatever's going on, the test will find it. I'm sure that if nothing else, it will force me to have to go to the physical therapy my doctor told me to do three weeks ago.
It's been good to make me appreciate having a pain free day though, and even more, an actual night of sleep. I can't wait until either one of those come back again.
At least now I'll know that if I ever have to get an MRI again, I won't worry. Yes it's a strange feeling and a little scary at first, but it sure is nice to get to have your own little 80's dance party...even for just a little bit.
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