(Not) Runnin' Runnin' and (Not) Runnin' Runnin'

(Not sure what Black Eyed Peas song the above title that is from, but please sing accordingly)

Yesterday was a traumatic day for me and my hip. I arrived at the imagining center for what I assumed would be a normal MRI. In and out. Wrong.

First, I was told about the procedure, which would involve needles and a needed ride home (which I did not have, because I was not told I needed one).

Second, I was forced to wait for 30 to 45 minutes extra after being told about said needle and possible ride-home mandatory side effects.

Third, I was placed on an x-ray table, whilst a group of doctors watched a needle be inserted into my hip joint on a neighboring television screen.

Fourth, I was injected into an MRI tube where I remained for an hour an five minutes.

At the end of all this trauma, the technician told me that a hip arthograph MRI (I could totally be spelling that incorrectly) is the longest MRI that they perform in that office. She didn't want to tell me before since the idea of spending an hour in the machine scares people...you think?

How I spent my time in the tube:

1. First 10 minutes - PANIC! I clutched the emergency button and forced myself not to push it mulitple times, despite the clear fact that the MRI tube was getting smaller and cutting off all my oxygen.

2. Second 10 minutes - Silently counting the number of songs played on the radio station I was listening to (91.7...what, what) through headphones slapped on my head at the last moment in a failed attempt to keep track of time.

3. Third 10 minutes - Imagining that the technician and all other trained MRI operators in the building had been killed in a rampage and that I was left alone...stuck in the machine...again, did not push the button.

4. Fourth 10 minutes - Focusing on my right foot and how badly I wanted to move it. I needed to move it. I must move it! I did not move it.

5. Fifth 10 minutes - Loving the technician for telling me I only had 17 minutes left (and for not being dead...see 3 above).

6. Last 15 minutes - Silently counting to 1000 slowly. How is it possible that minutes go so slowly.

Not sure what the name of my technician was, but I am sure that I have never loved a stranger more than when she ejected me from my hole in the MRI machine. Next time they ask me if I am claustrophobic the answer will be a resounding...YES.

Timmy

Days Left - 93

Total Distance Run - Same as below. Booooooo.