MRIs and other methods of torture

Last week I went to call on my Orthopedic Surgeon’s office, because they never tire of my endless visits and subsequent complaints.  Bottom line.  My knee surgery was over 2 months ago, and I’m no closer to perfecting my cartwheel.

In fact, the basic act of putting one foot in front of the other?  Not happening.  Without a good deal of pain and mental cursing.

So.  My doctor ordered an MRI and blood work.  Because even though my knee surgery was rather extensive, I should be much better by now.  So something is amiss, and we need to find out what the something is.

I’m far too young to feel this d#@* old.

I’m pretty sure that’s a country western song title.  And if not, it should be.

On Friday I had an MRI.  Not really knowing what to expect, I went in dressed in my comfy yoga pants.  Which is pretty much what I wear EVERYWHERE and ALL THE TIME.  I discovered that when you have an MRI, you cannot have any metal on you anywhere.  And they make you wear a paper hospital gown.

I’m not down with that paper hospital gown business, so I wisely convinced them that I carried no metal on my person.  No underwire (sports bra), and the rest of me was strictly poly/cotton blend.  I don’t even have any metal in my teeth.

So all I had to do was roll up my pant leg.  Which is a good thing, because evidently, when you have an MRI, the thermostat in the room must be kept set on ARCTIC.  They immobilized my knee in this cylinder, shoving foam bricks inside to further make certain that I wouldn’t move.  My hatred of the dratted MRI experience only intensified with a white hot heat.  As I nearly froze to death.

And then I was rolled into a coffin like tube, with just my head protruding.  I was told not to move a muscle.  For about 25 minutes.  While listening to the deafening sounds of the MRI machine, which sounded very much like the evil that emanated from my Beatles LPs when I would play them backwards on my old close-n-play phonograph.

Hello, my name is Myrtle, and I’m 112 years old.

Since their earphones with the piped in Muzac was broken, all I could do was occupy my mind with what was in my visual sight.

The manufacturer of the MRI machine was called “Siemens”.  And whenever life gives you 7 letters, you must play Scrabble.

I configured all manner of words in my mind with the given SIEMENS.  The first of course, was the obvious, which normally would give me cause to giggle uncontrollably, but that would mean I would move, thusly forcing my tormentors to start all over.  I will not spell out that word, because perverts everywhere would stumble upon my blog using Google.

Besides that word, I came up with MEN, SEEM, SIS, IN, ME, MINE, MESS, and MISS.  That occupied about 4 minutes of the allotted time.  The rest of the minutes I wiled away constructing my grocery list.  Which strangely leaned toward Pop-Tarts and Oreos.

After the MRI, I had more fun by getting my blood work done.  Because I don’t give up blood easily, I left with 3 puncture wounds.  After all of that, I could do nothing but wait.

Over the weekend, my knee worsened to the point that at about 4 in the morning I wanted to just gnaw off my leg and be done with it.  By Monday morning I was completely immobilized, and my leg became non-weight bearing.

Can anyone tell that I watch far too much HGTV?

Another trip to the Doctor on Monday revealed that my blood levels were inflated indicating infection, so a plan was revealed.  I am going to be having surgery again on Thursday, so that the doctor can go in with the scope, see what’s going on, biopsy the large amount of fluid, “clean my knee up” (I don’t even want to know), and then put me on antibiotics.  I will have to wear a knee-immobilizer afterward.

I’ve got medical news for them.  The pain is enough of a knee-immobilizer.

Happily, I’ve been given some very colorful and fun pain killers to get me through the next couple of days, and even stronger more fun pain killers to get me through the night.

So.  If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know why.  If you do hear from me, please know that it’s the rantings of a drugged out lunatic, and try not to be hold it against me.  I do still plan to host the Curriculum Round-up on Friday.

I’m not skeert really.  I sort of know what to expect…ANOTHER DRAIN ATTACHED TO MY KNEE…WOOHOO!  And in all seriousness, I’ll be relieved to know what is going on and what I can do to propel myself toward my dreams of an olympic future.  Or at least be able to chase my kids down.

And really, a surgery to two always makes for good blog fodder.  (I have a new video camera I’m reviewing, and I’ll attempt to document much of the journey. As long as I’m lucid.  For your viewing pleasure.)

Your welcome.

June 8, 2010

18 Responses to MRIs and other methods of torture

  • oh no! Sorry to hear you’re having to “go back under the knife” even if it is a teeny-tiny one.

    On a different note, I have discovered I truly enjoy Scrabble, also known as words with friends, on my iPhone. Sadly my vocab has diminshed over the years. I blame Mommy Brain.

  • Praying that this surgery gets you back on your feet, DeeDee…pain is not fun!

  • I’m so sorry you are dealing with this! I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be for you. Praying for (another) speedy recovery!

  • Oh, I hear ya’ babe. My trimalleolar fracture aged me by 50 years at least. I am now able to predict incoming storms with uncanny accuracy as well as serve as a barometric pressure gauge.

    Praying for comfort and healing for you!

  • Praying for you…

  • Oh, bummer! So sorry to hear you’ve been in so much pain and that you’ll have to have another surgery. 🙁 I’m praying for your quick recovery and that the drs can find out what’s wrong and fix it once and for all!

  • I will be praying lots and lots for you! I work at an ortho office and I know our docs don’t do surgery unless they have to do it so I pray that this heals your pain!

  • I will be praying for you Deedee. And by the way I was under the impression that chasing after kids IS an Olympic sport…no? It should be. 🙂 Remember you Jensen reminds me of my Hunter.
    cheers!

  • Oh man, that’s a big, fat drag. So sorry. Though I’m sort of looking forward to the drugged out ramblings.

    Just the other day, I was telling somebody about my close-and-play phonograph! I loved that thing! Though I never tried playing the Beatles backwards – too scary. You were a very daring child.

  • You’re a tough one Fiddledeedee… praying for you!

  • Well, POOP! Will pray for you. Hopefully this time they can, like, FIX IT! And then you can have mother-daughter surgery story swapping contests…. or something. 🙂

  • You handled the MRI WAY better than I did.

    I freaked out when they told me that I couldn’t move a muscle or they would have to do it all over again. Of course, at that moment I started twitching. Which made me cry.

    Shocking my nerves… no problem! Endless blood draws… peesh! Easy as pie! Being forced to stay still…. torture.

    On the bright side.. I thought the wierd noises emitting from the machine sounded suspiciously like “He’s Got the Whole World In his Hands”.

  • Well now, that sucks.

    Totally.

    Big time.

    But, I feel ya sister. Having not been able to out weight on my knees since, well, October, as a lovely 8 month anniversary gift I was due to have both of those suckers (I see a word trend here, don’t you?) biopsied on the 14th.

    However, I really do truly hate the Dr. who is scheduled to do it. Truly.

    He is the epitome of arrogant pig, God-like Dr. (No offense to God intended).

    So, I a doing the brave thing and canceling then rescheduling to see a new Dr. I have tracked down with my sources.

    So stealthy, dontcha think!

    But, my dear sister, I am praying for you, FiddleDaDa, and the FiddleKiddles. May God seriously see you through this quickly and as painlessly as possible.

    I love you.

    But that goes without saying.

    (Ribbit).

    Sorry, I had to. You know I did.

    Smooches.

  • I think you should go the way of Lindsay Wagoner….and get yourself a bionic leg. Bionic home school mom. It so could be a TV series. I’m just throwing that out there.
    If that idea doesn’t appeal to you, I guess the surgery is the next best thing.
    I look forward to the video footage–because I’m just a little twisted and would probably treat it like watching something on the Discovery Channel. Just sayin’.

  • Oh My!!! Sounds like infection… those things they plan to do (while numbed to a blissful state) should do the trick… hang in there… I know about knee pain… I fear surgery in my future too…

  • Oh, DeeDee – I’m sorry you’ll have to go through another surgery!! I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of things this time and make sure that the infection gets cleared up. I’ll be praying for you and for your medical team!

  • Thank you everyone for your prayers and well wishes! You all totally made my day! Well, you and Darvocet!

  • Oh dear! Feel better soon!!

    Mary