MRI am not okay.

I think that the title says it all.  I am not okay.

It has been a long couple of days.  Tuesday’s MRI was a complete and absolute nightmare.  I don’t even know how else to say it.  I left work on Monday night around midnight (so technically Tuesday morning) and as I’m sure you can already guess, I was exhausted.  I came home, turned on my nightly episode of Chopped with Angel (something we still do even though she’s back home, we just alternate who gets to pick that night’s episode.  OnDemand is amazing for that reason.) and from there I went to bed.

Now, let me tell you, 6:45a.m comes a hell of a lot sooner than you want it to when you’re going to bed at 1a.m.  Even then, 7:30a.m. comes a hell of a lot faster than you want it to when dealing with rude hospital staff.  The hospital that I went to for my MRI is less than 15-minutes away from my house, which would be nice if that hospital wasn’t absolute crap. 

Now, I’m not saying that to be an asshole, I swear.

I both respect and appreciate the things that a lot of doctors are out there doing for people.  However, I also believe that NIMC (although they call themselves Northwestern now but, I was born there when they were still called NIMC 25-years ago) is absolute crap.  Three and a half years ago when I fell in the shower and busted my skull open, before my time as a blogger, NIMC told me that I did not have a concussion- which was false.  Four years ago, NIMC also told my mother that she did not have cancer- which was also FALSE.

When I got to the hospital the logical thing for me to do was ask where the radiology department was, obviously.  I mean, I was there for an MRI, so it only makes sense that I would ask the Help Desk where I was supposed to be going.  Instead of being met with a helpful receptionist, the woman that I delt with was very standoffish, telling me and I quote “Don’t speak to me until you’ve sanitized your hands!”

Um.  Okay?                                                                                    

So, I did.  I didn’t even see the bottle of hand sanitizer sitting on the edge of the desk but, I guess that didn’t matter.  She apparently wanted someone to yell at and be rude to at 7:20a.m.  It clearly didn’t matter to this woman that I was tired, or that it was early, or that I’d very politely asked her where Radiology was because, I had never been to this part of the hospital before.  Now, I get that Covid-19 is scary but, that was uncalled for.  So was the way she rudely demanded that I change my mask because, apparently the mask I was wearing wasn’t good enough?  Then, instead of answering my question about where the elevator was (because Radiology is down a set of stairs) she demanded I “just go down the stairs, you’ll be fine!” again, for those of you who don’t know, I am currently in a full orthopedic boot- or moon boot- whatever you want to call the thing due to the injury to my left foot and ankle.

Thanks lady.

So, I waddle my way down the narrow and non-orthopedic boot friendly stairs as safely as I possibly can, and let me just tell you that I wish I would’ve taken a picture of the look on the Radiology department nurse’s face.  Her jaw was on the floor.  She looked at me like she could not believe I had just descended an entire flight of stairs in my moon boot.  When asked why I did this, you best believe I called the “Help Desk” receptionist out by name for not only being rude to me but for telling me to “just go down the stairs”- if you’re reading this, hi Karen.

Paperwork.  Paperwork.  Paperwork.

Then it was finally time for me to go back, and the nice male nurse got me a wheelchair and wheeled me away.  That wasn’t the bad part.  No, that didn’t come until I was in the room with the MRI machine and up on the cold, hard metal table where I was given earplugs, headphones, and a warm blanket.  From there, I was also told to hold still for what I was told was going to be about 30-minutes and then I’d be free to go.

When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad.  Right?  Wrong.

For the next hour and a half, I was subjected to what felt like torture.  Even with the headphones and the earplugs, I felt like I had a front row seat nose-to-nose with the Metra.  It literally sounded like a train horn, screaming, and knocking, and banging right next to my head.  I wasn’t allowed to move, and my anxiety was without a doubt worse than I think it has ever been in my 25-years of living.  Me, who is almost always anxiety personified.

I couldn’t get out of that hospital fast enough after my test.  I was feeling shaky, I was nauseous, and there were more than a few tears shed on my silent drive home.  That’s right, I didn’t turn the radio, or Spotify, or anything else on for that 15-minute drive home- and if you know me personally that should scare you.  Because I am 100% against being in a car for any length of time without music unless I’m talking on the phone (over Bluetooth obviously because only idiots text and drive, and it’s illegal in my state to be holding or touching a handheld device while operating a car.)

So, I drove home with my explosive headache- bordering on a migraine at that point- took some Tylenol and some ZzzQuil, and I passed the fuck out for a couple hours.  I would say pardon my language here but honestly?  If you have anxiety and you’ve ever had an MRI you know just how traumatizing that was for me, and I’m hoping that tomorrow when I call my orthopedic surgeon he’ll have some answers for me.

Around 3p.m. yesterday I got a really weird text from my Grandma, saying she wasn’t feeling well- she was dizzy, out of it, and didn’t feel okay to drive.  So, she had my older brother go get her from work, brought her to the E.R. waited there for a couple hours without being seen (good job guys) and then came home.  To be fair though, if I sat in the E.R. for a couple of hours only to be told that I wouldn’t be seen for a couple more hours… I’d probably go home too.

So, today I took her to see a real doctor- or tried to at least.  Her doctor is the same one that I go to (yeah, the quack who said that there’s nothing wrong with my foot… you know, the one that I have very limited movement in and can’t put pressure on).  So, I was kind of skeptical at first but, his P.A. was really nice and got her all taken care of- we even managed to bully her into the pneumonia vaccine, which was highly suggested for her age.  Don’t worry, she doesn’t have the Covid, and she’s going to be alright now.

Other than that, we drove around talking about haunted Bull Valley stories, got some insulation for a pipe outside under the deck, and I had my allergy shots.  The two of us also went to Arby’s and stopped off at a local park and had lunch together after all of that so, that was pretty nice.  And you know what?  I even got some writing done after we got home today. 

(Not much but, progress, not perfection.  Right?)

I think that’s all for right now, its pretty late and I’m pretty tired so I’m going to bed.  Hopefully the next time I post I will be just that much closer to figuring out what’s wrong with my foot, finishing my Skeleton Draft, and getting this show on the road as far as my writing goes.

Goodnight.

-Sky