My Mom went with me to my MRI so that J could play softball (his only outlet, and dude time – I’d never ask him to miss it, even though he offered). My Mom is amazing, in case I haven’t mentioned it…she (and J, of course) is the reason I haven’t given up on myself or my journey to health. After driving from Baltimore and sitting through my long MRIs, she then took J and I to the Chipotle and wouldn’t even let us pay. She’s the best, seriously.
The MRI itself was miserable-over an hour in a dark metal tube-but they didn’t want contrast, and the tech was remarkably sweet for 4pm on a Sunday, so it wasn’t an entirely negative experience. I was praying that they’d see something – that they’d find the answer in these MRIs I had requested so long ago. Sigh.
I was patient, and waited until Tuesday morning to call (and then again a few more times for good measure) and some random nurse (not even the PA with whom I’ve been working!) calls me to tell me that they didn’t find anything. No one ever finds anything. I asked if there were any other ideas, or if I could consult with anyone else, and the nurse basically said that there wasn’t anything else She could do for me…
I got dumped by my pain doctor.
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