I had to have an MRI done on my knee this week.

Not fun, y'all. Not fun at all.

First of all they take you into a room with a huge door that looks like it belongs on some kind of fall out shelter. Then they hand you a "panic ball" and tell you that you should squeeze it if you need anything since they won't be able to hear you over the noise the machine makes.

The noise you ask? Loud horrible sounds. And I watch television...nothing good ever happens when things start making those kinds of sounds. Remember the sounds in an episode of season six of Lost when they try to blow up the island and end up with some crazy electromagnetic black hole that sucked everything and Juliet into it? Didn't work out so well for her and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to end well for me.

Their solution? Hand you some big retro style headphones and ask you what kind of music you like. Which turns out to not be helpful at all when you realize that all this time when you thought you might be slightly disturbed by small confined spaces you are actually indeed super full blown bet your sweet bippy bothered by small confined spaces. Like panic-and-try-to-rip-the-ear-phones-off-your-own-ears-because-you-are-having-trouble-breathing claustrophobic. Only you're worried about just exactly how loud the noise must be if they couldn't hear panicked cries for help so you feel your heart rate speeding up even faster as you wonder whether or not you are going to go completely into the itty bitty tunnel space.

I squeezed the heck out of that panic ball and I am not ashamed. A little sheepish maybe, but not ashamed. I just needed to hear that I would not be going completely into the tunnel of doom. Even then I had to work really hard to stay calm. Forget waterboarding, people. Put me in a tiny space and I will spill any secrets I possibly know. I'll probably even make stuff up just to get out.

The good news is that I do not have a torn meniscus and do not need surgery. I have some wear and tear behind my knee cap and a cortisone shot and physical therapy should fix me right up.

In other news, we are smack in the middle of buying the house we live in. We've been here three years and the opportunity came up for us to buy it. Which really just means a bunch of paperwork and details for Rob to deal with while I have been busy pinning all kinds of things that I want to do once it's ours. None of which thrills my beloved's soul but he's just putting his head down and pushing through it. The other day he was finishing up some work he was doing on the pool and I mentioned one little thing I thought would be fun to do outside and I got the look. The one he gives me that says I haven't picked my time wisely. I just laughed and told him he should just imagine all the things I wasn't saying! Yet.

In the midst of all that we're also winding our summer down. The kids and I are getting school supplies organized and pulling together school uniforms. There is always a certain amount of excitement and sadness at this time of year. Looking forward to the new school year and all it's possibilities and knowing I'll miss the kiddos and what Sam calls the infernal racket that they make.

Speaking of Sam, here's his take on teenage angst, monster style:


I just love his Igor. But, man do I need to clean the white board!

Have a happy weekend y'all.


2 Comments

  1. Fun read. .. you had me laughing and grinning the whole way!

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    Replies
    1. I'm glad! I was hoping that I could turn my discomfort into something that would be amusing so ti wasn't a total waste :-)

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