Saturday, September 28, 2013
After six months of physical therapy, I had an MRI on my left shoulder to see exactly what’s going on in there. The procedure included dye injected into my shoulder joint. OMG! Being needle phobic sent me into a major panic. I know it’s irrational and it’s always the anticipation that gets me. Still, the last few days before the procedure were kind of hellish. I was anxious, wasn’t sleeping well, and let me just say that fear is a great laxative. As with most of my needle encounters, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. Even though the nurse and doctor were understanding and said not to beat myself up, I felt like a giant boob. There is one more upsetting thing about this MRI that I can’t explain. I supposedly had this same procedure on my right shoulder in 2008. I don’t remember it... at all. I can remember conversations from third grade, 1963. Why wouldn’t I remember a medical procedure with dye, a needle, and an MRI machine? Seems like I’d remember the needle thing. If nothing else, you’d think the sound of jackhammers right under my head would have left a lasting impression. I felt like I’d been zapped into that movie “Gaslight”. I was Ingrid Bergman and the entire medical community was Charles Boyer. Both my nurse and doctor greeted me by saying “Hey, I remember you from last time!”. Crap! I’ve had a few knee MRIs and I remember all of them. I don’t remember having my shoulder in a vice, with sandbags on my arm - to help me “remember not to move”. Whether this previous MRI was a mundane or bad experience, it seems like I would remember it. Makes me wonder what else I’ve forgotten. Could I have another child out there I don’t remember giving birth to? Was I once third runner up in the Miss America Pageant? Did I rob a bank, get away with it, and now don’t know where I buried the money? So, to summarize... I am glad I had the procedure, am way glad it’s over, and am totally embarrassed I blew it up into such a traumatic event. As to the not remembering part... there are only two explanations. I am either insane, or Ingrid Bergman. And damn you, Charles Boyer.