Not Dead Yet! (Just short on internets)

Howdy all!  Just had it pointed out to me by the Darling Husband that it'd been a while since I last posted and I was all, "Oh crap, now the invisible cats are going to be shredding the drapes and pooping all over the place because I haven't fed them or changed their litter box in forever!"

Unfortunately, life is happening right now, so I have precious little to report.  I'm still injured (but improving!), so much of my spare time is spent doing physical therapy exercises or huddling with a heat pad.  We're also still in the process of moving (there will be pics!) and we don't have internet at the house yet, so I have to return to our crappy apartment to access the tubes.

There are no chairs at the apartment.  I think you can see the problem there.

Still, I do want all four of my loyal, loyal invisible cats to know that there will be more lols, more art, and I haven't forgotten the plan regarding Antarctica.

And on that note, I'm signing off.  My knees are getting sore.

New Life Goal

So, for those of you who don't see me on a regular basis, I have thoroughly jacked up my beloved left shoulder.  I have no idea how I did this, although the diagnosis  gives me the impression that it was life in general.  I have bursitis/tendinitis and scapular dyskinesis.  The former is what you get when you do the same thing over and over for months/years on end.  The latter, which would make a pretty cool band name, means that instead of moving sideways, my left shoulder blade moves out.  This is actually visible to the naked eye, although I've been to lazy to try, and the darling husband has expressed negative interest in seeing it.  Still, it is the first time I've been diagnosed with something cool sounding.  They took xrays and everything.  Of course, there's nothing actually wrong with my shoulder bones.  Nope, nothing unusual at all.

Except my humerus, which is the one part of my left arm that I have never had trouble with at all.

Yeah, so there's this weird mass in my humerus.  I'm all, okay, huh, should I worry?
Doctor's all, probably nothing but we should take an MRI just in case.  Insert horses vs zebras metaphor here.  It made perfect sense at the time, but in retrospect is just a bit odd.  And we'll wait to start you on physical therapy until afterwards.

Have you ever had an MRI?  Those of you who have may skip this portion.  You know the terror.  As for the rest of you, permit me to detail my experience.  Imagine, if you will, having to remove all metal from your body.  Jewelry?  Has to go.  Belt?  No good.  I mean, seriously, the paperwork they give you for what to expect even says to wear a sports bra if you're a girl.  'Cause the scan's done with magnets, and bad things will happen.  This is what you're told, before you even walk through the door.  So, I get in there.  I don't own a sports bra that will fit over my massive hooters, so I've got an underwire on.  I'm going to work after this, so I'm wearing jeans, with a metal zipper and button.

No problem.  Thank you, pamphlet of doom, for making me panic.  Of course, maybe if they were scanning my midsection this would have been a problem and the magnetic power would  have dragged me around in it like a dryer.  I don't know.

So, then  they put this huge heavy thing on my shoulder (why, yes, that shoulder, the one that is in constant pain).  If I had two of those I could play football and destroy the other team just by tapping them with my shoulders.  Then they lay me down on this skinny table, put huge fluffy earring protectors on my head, and step out of the room.

Then the fun really starts.  The table moves backwards, and you notice that the part of the table that moves is ever so slightly narrower than you thought, so your hands drag along the sides.  And then you go into a tiny tube, the top of which is about an inch away from your face.

I am claustrophobic, so I shut my eyes after getting a glimpse of this, so I can't see how closed in I actually am.  Also, because I've seen way too many movies, I imagine the machine to be far longer than it actually is.

What I imagine.

 

What actually is.

So, I'm in this tiny space counting panda bears, waiting for it to be over, and then the noise starts.  I cannot accurately describe this sound, so go here, turn the volume on your computer all the way, plug in your headphones and listen to sample one for a realistic simulation.  (not responsible fore hearing damage incurred.)  Add to this a bizarre whopping sound when the machine is not actively scanning, and you have a pretty shitty morning indeed.

Now, this whole time I'm laying on this horrible shoulder thinggy in just the wrong way, and it really hurts.  Knowing that they'll have to pull me out before it's done because the doctor wants one with contrast and one without, I'm thinking, oh, I can sit up and adjust when they finally pull me out of this tiny hell.

 

Only if I want them to start all over, it turns out.  I remain in my agonizing position, the girl gives me an injection, and shoves me back in the tube.

I have a new life goal of never getting an MRI ever again.

Follow up with my doctor (wherein I forget the CD of my MRI they gave and discover they only sent over the radiologist's report and not the actual image):

"Yeah, the radiologist says it's nothing to worry about.  I still want to see the MRI, though, so go to PT for four weeks and bring the disc the next time you see me."

Yay.

And of course, I can't get an appointment that isn't during work until next week, which means that from the time I first went to the doctor to the time I start PT will have been a delightful 16 days, a third of which were sick days from work (I now have approximately one hour of sick time left), three of which were spent in or on the way to North Carolina, and the rest of which were spent at work on restricted duty.  I can't do over the shoulder work, or lift more than five pounds.

I work in a bookstore.

Fortunately, my employers are kind and patient.  Very patient, because I can't take the really good meds and drive (or think, or do anything but sleep for that matter) and so I've been in constant pain for about two weeks now.  I'd say it's been running between a three and an eight on the better pain scale, depending on how much I'm moving my left arm.  So, there I am at work, with an average pain level around five...dealing with customers. 

I am happy to report that no one has died, although I did have to run outside and scream after helping one lady yesterday.