Oh, MRI!

Things I’m very good at sucking at … a lot:

Being patient.

Resting.

Lying still.

So when my physio highly recommended I go have an MRI for a dodgy hip (and don’t even get me started on how that only draws attention to my ever increasing age – even though I’ve had it for, like, ever) I did go into slight panic.

Not because I was worried about tumours or what they may find in there that they weren’t expecting.

No … because I was required to lie still and do nothing for twenty minutes.

Even my mild claustrophobia didn’t bother me.

The through of Doing Nothing, that was a BIG problem.

I frocked up in a disposable gown, opening a the back and climbed int the big, scary machine that made lots of banging noises and did my best to lie still for twenty minutes.

I did my best to rest.

I did my best to be patient.

Whilst I’m here, why is patience a virtue? What is so virtuous about patience? Why can’t impatience be a virtue?

I did my best to also rest and still my mind.

Cos when I’m forced to lie still and not move and be patient, my mind can go absolutely mental and make me want to leap up and take notes, or jiggle about in excitement, or want to defenestrate someone or something because, well, my mind works ALL THE TIME! Several thoughts at once. Often.

It’s like it is in a permanently caffeinated state, even and especially when it isn’t.

Miracles, however, do occur. I focused on my breathing – which, by the way, was all over the shop – listened to some music, and LAY STILL FOR TWENTY MINUTES!

I did so well apparently that they nearly gave me a gold star, and did tell me that the images came out really well.

They sent me home with a disc containing the images, which subsequently sucked up several hours of my time, because I find stuff like this totally fascinating. I had no idea what I was looking at from the injury perspective (torn cartilage, bone swelling, stuff) but simply loved analysing the bone and muscle as they came into focus, and ignoring all the fat bits.

(And not giggling like a six-year-old when I could make out the shape of my vagina – tee hee hee.)

Apparently, the tear and bone stuff are legit, and there is also some tendenopathy of the gluteals – which accounts for the size of my arse.

That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it; it’s the swelling of the tendons that attach the muscles of my bum to various, local, bones, and not that my arse is fat at all.

Really …

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