The MRI

I watch enough sports to know that one of the go-to tools for diagnosing an injury is an MRI, long name Magnetic Resonanace Imaging. My daughter had one not too long ago and she was not a fan, saying it made her nauseous and claustrophobic.

So when the orthopedic specialist that I was seeing about my neck and shoulder pain signed me up for one, I was glad he was taking that next step to get to the root of my issue but I was definitely not look forward to the process.

A few days ago, the date for my appointment arrived and I went up to our lovely Baptist hospital for my procedure. After a short wait, I was escorted to the Imaging Department and they asked me if I had anything metal on my person or in my body. After putting my pocket change and my belt and such in a locker, I was good to go. Then they placed me in this contraption that was indeed quite a tight fit and I was told to lie as still as possible. I did have a brief instant of sheer terror as the machine fired up at the exact same moment I wondered if the fillings in my teeth counted as “metal in my body.” Luckily, they did not, and they did not fly out of my mouth when the MRI kicked on.

I managed to sit still and get lost in my thoughts for the 20 minutes or so it took for them to get the images they needed. The next day, I took them to my orthopedic specialist who diagnosed me with a bone spur and a bulging disc in the C5-C6 area of my neck (in case those nuumbers mean anything to you).

So I’m in physical therapy for a while to see if I’ll ultimately need surgery or nor. Getting old sucks!