I have received some interesting comments. I did not write this as a form of complaint. I was reading what I wrote last year and it made me laugh so I thought I would share it. This is how I deal with all the crazy medical stuff in our lives... with "sardonic" humor. Please don't feel sorry for me or think I want your pity. I just thought you would enjoy a good laugh.

I wrote most of this last year. I found it when I was going through some files and thought I would share it. It is really funny now that I don't remember the pain as vividly! Enjoy!

Last summer I had the “opportunity” to have a procedure done on my shoulder that I would not wish on my worst enemy. The Magnetic Resonance Arthrogram was “going to hurt” as everyone I spoke to put it. They were right. I took Valium before I left for the hospital. Beth drove me and as we were sitting in admitting and I was about to fall over on the desk she told me that she was getting sleepy just looking at me. By the time I got into the actual room for the arthrogram the medicine had fully kicked in and I was whacked out. I was asked to go into the small restroom, remove everything from my waist up and put a gown on. This may seem like a simple task to some, but to a woman with a bum shoulder that is seeing spinning psychedelic colors all around her this was quite the project! When I finally emerged the nurse asked me to climb up on the table which was about four feet above the ground. There was a little step stool to help and that was it. All I can say is it was a good thing I was fully clothed from the waist down or there would have been quite a show! I lay down and tried very hard not to think about what was going to happen. If I opened my eyes the room started spinning and I felt nauseous so I tried to sleep.

About twenty minutes passes (which is a long time to try to convince yourself not to make one last dash out of the building and run for your life before it is too late) and the radiologist still hadn’t shown up. The nurse wasn’t around at all and I realized I needed to use the restroom. I tried to forget about it, but the urge just wouldn’t go away. I can wait until after. Then, If he surprises you too much with the needle you are going to wet yourself. I decided that somehow I needed to get myself off that table and into the restroom. I sat up slowly. I looked around. No sign of anyone. I am going to have to do this myself. The step stool was no where in sight so I just took my chances and leaped off the bed. Four feet to the ground with the room spinning and spinning. I landed, sort of, and regained my balance grabbing onto anything around me. I took care of business then stood in front of the table trying to remember how it was that I got up in the first place. I found the slide-out stool and used it to launch my body back up on the bed. I lay down and soon realized that the Valium was starting to wear off. At that point I really became scared. What am I doing? He is going to stick me with a huge needle and I am not even crazy enough not to care anymore!

I was trying to calm myself down when the nurse walked in with the radiologist. He leaned over my face and said in a “welcome to the circus” voice, “Hi! I’m Doctor Weiner! Hee! Hee! Hee!” The Valium must still be working. He walked over to the tray with all of the “fun stuff” for the procedure and started giving the tech orders. He put his gloves on like a surgeon and was very sterile. The tech on the other hand was not wearing gloves and kept wiping her nose. This is a nightmare. I watched carefully and made sure she didn’t actually touch anything that was going into my skin. Then I notice what Dr. Weiner was wearing: blue jeans. Is that allowed? Is this guy for real or did he kidnap the real doctor and sneak in here to play around like a mad scientist?

Dr. Weiner came and cleaned the area for the injection, which to my surprise was more in my chest area than the shoulder. He said, “I am going to mix all the fun stuff then I will be back to finish.” He mixed a huge syringe full of at least three different solutions. He returned quickly and while giggling said, “Ok, I am going to give you some Novocain.” Poke. “Does that hurt? It should hurt. Do you want to see the next part?” “NO!” I replied. “All right, now for the fun...” STAB. “...part.” He turned to walk away and yet I could still feel what felt like a huge metal pencil sticking out of my chest. Did he just walk away and leave that thing in me? I turned to look and was mesmerized. I couldn’t look away. This is so cool! Dr. Weiner returned again, this time with the huge syringe. He began pumping my shoulder joint full of fluid. And then it was over as quickly as it had started. He put a band-aid on the injection spot and left the room.

Next it was off for the MRI part of the procedure. I have had many MRI’s in my short lifetime so I wasn’t too worried. My shoulder felt like it was going to explode from all of the fluid in the joint. I lay on the table and was put in the tube for the first set of images. It lasted about a half an hour. The tech came in and asked me to sit up so he could set up for the next set. I thought he was kidding when he asked me to put my arm above my head while he shoved the “shoulder holder” under my armpit. I told him that I couldn’t lift my arm that high. That’s why I am getting an MRA! He told me I had to so I dealt with the pain and did what he said with a little assistance. As he rolled me back into the tube I had two thoughts: I am going to kill this guy. No, it’s not his fault. I am going to kill Dr. Weinstein. The last set only lasted about fifteen minutes. The entire time I spent plotting Dr. Weinstein’s demise. I came out and was in so much pain I wanted to scream. The Valium had worn off and I was not happy. I went into the dressing room to put my clothes back on and as I moved my arm I felt a huge pop. My first rib on my right side dislocated. This is it. He is so dead! Obviously I calmed down before I saw Dr. Weinstein again because I am not writing this from prison. I did let him know that I had some major homicidal thoughts toward him. He was very grateful I decided not to act upon them.

Dr. Weinstein is a great doctor who deserves the best praise. I know he ordered this test because it really was the only way to diagnose what was wrong. I am grateful that after five years we actually know what happened and how to fix it. Now we just wait and wait until the time is right for the surgery.