I Want A Medal, So I Had An MRI

Last week, my Doc ordered an MRI to find out why one of my spinal-legos won’t stay in the right place. I was reluctant to say the least… And I told my Doc I was not having back surgery, because I play a doctor on the internet and so I KNOW, once you have mid-life back surgery, your back is messed up, for-like-ever. But, the doc talked me into an MRI anyway, because apparently an MRI doesn’t mean automatic back surgery. DUH!

So yesterday, I had my first, and last, MRI. Wow, those machines are giant, small, and super loud Y’all.

I was trying to describe my MRI experience to Hubs when I got home last night, but since I was still hung-over from my massive-mid-day-Valium-cocktail, all I could manage to say was, “I know how Baby Jessica must have felt when she fell down that well.”

Kelly, that was thirty years ago.

“Well, I’m telling you, that MRI-well was THAT small, so Baby Jessica probably still has flashbacks and junk. And she is probably scarred for life… Because I’m scarred, and I’m never getting lowered into that MRI-well again.”

Well, at least it’s over now and soon you’ll know what’s going on with your back, and if you will be able to do the half marathon in two weeks.

“I’m still going to do the Half, even if I have to walk the whole thing. I can walk. I’m doing this for the medal. And you don’t get a medal if you don’t finish. That’s why it’s called the Finisher’s Medal. I wonder if Baby Jessica got a medal? Or at least a sticker for her car.”

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