All in a Morning

Today was Landon's day for show and tell and his school. He wanted to bring in sea shells "From Myrtle Beach" he declared as I buckled him into his seat. And off we went to school. He carried those shells in as proud as can be and was so thrilled to be showing off something that was his to the class. I gave him a kiss and walked out feeling like this could be good day. (I was on my way to my MRI appt.), so half day of school for me! As I was sitting at the stop light waiting to make a left hand turn, some dude behind me begins to beep his horn, and flash his lights, scaring the living daylights out of me! He quickly puts his Toyota ForeRunner in park and quickly jumps out of his truck, the pit already in my stomach hits rock bottom as I am frantically trying to figure out what could be the matter. The man runs to the back of my car, pulls something off and comes around to my door. I am quickly trying to find the auto window and no sooner than I had it down, he runs up, hands me my cordless phone from home without a word. I say thanks, he smiles, then nods, and runs back into his car just as the light turned green. Thank you whoever you are, you deserve good karma back to you!

Off to my MRI appt. I have been having major knee issues on my left and after two months of muddling through runs with clenched teeth, decided it was time to really get it checked out. The lady who called my name - can't figure out how to pronounce my last name. "Roemer" I say. "Just like roaming but spelled different" I give a half laugh. She doesn't think it is amusing at all. "Okay" she says, "Take off watches, earrings, beepers, pagers, and any other metal. Do you wear a pace maker?" "No" I say. "Place your belongings in this locker, lock it and take this key with you." I follow her accordingly as her Sergeant-like manner was intimidating. Then she says, "Follow me." I follow her to the MRI room - I knew only because there was a sign on the outside door. She never muttered a word as I tried to keep up with fast clip pace. "Sit here. Take off your flip flops. Swing your legs up here and then lie down. Do you wear a pace maker?" "No." I reply again (thinking it must be part of the preparation - ask twice, just in case). "Here are your ear plugs. Put your leg in here and don't move. This will take about 30 minutes. Oh and here is hand held device - push this button if you need anything or feel like you need to get out."

No sweat - 30 minutes. They move me under a huge hanging table. I begin to look around, check out the ceiling, not moving at all. Then, my little hand held device slips out of my hand and lands on the floor. Whatever, I will get it later. But as I am laying there, I discover that my rings were left on. Immediately I begin to play out all different circumstances in my head. Will the lazers do some funky thing to my rings and then cause an exposion? Will the rings burn up around my finger? She stressed so much about NOT wearing any metal. And now my little button to press is laying on the floor! Panic rushes over me! "Yoooohoooooooo!" I yell and begin to wave my arms. No one notices. "HELLOO!" Again nothing. I wiggle to the edge of the table, quickly finagle picking up my hand held device and promptly hit the button. "Is there a problem?" A voice comes over the loud speaker. "Yes! I still have my rings on!" I yell frantically! "That's not a problem." Oh. I think to myself.

A few minutes later, loud sounds, bumping, more loud sounds, more bumping. Then the door opens, few I think, this is over finally. "You moved your leg" comes a voice from behind. "Do you see where your knee is positioned?" "Uh...yes, I reply." She says, "You cannot move at all. This is going to take longer now." She says with a huff. I apologize and explain about picking up the button device thingy. She tells me it is not even necessary to have it - it's a "just in case thing" she scolded and then briskly walks off. "Oh but I did need it." I mutter under my breath.

I am just glad that experience is over. I will keep you posted on my scan results.