When I had fantasies of german men stroking me in darkened rooms, tying me up, pushing me into small spaces, MRIs and X-Rays were not what i had in mind. i need to watch what i'm putting out there...
So the back saga continues. It's now little more than an interesting journey through the lesser-traversed backblocks of my german vocabulary as the magic tablets ensure that i can't feel anything, anywhere. MRI you say? noisy you say? could give me a headache? un-frackin´-likely! do your worst, noisy technology!!
so, right, the reason for the MRI. Obviously i want to gain as much insight into the tools of my one-day profession, and those professions which operate in co-operation with mine, so a solid knowledge of imaging technology is important. MRIs are often used to check up on the brain, but can be used to look at any part of the body. For this reason I requested, while at the diagnostic centre today, an MRI to fully experience the technique so i know what i'm subjecting my patients to when the APS unwittingly lets me loose on the general public (oh don't worry, it's years away). Because i asked so nicely, and also because X-RAYs weren't adequately capturing the problem in my back, they acquiesced. (just in case it needs clarifying, i'm kidding - no sound-minded medical professional would ever do an MRI just because some friendly australian girl standing before him in her underwear asked nicely; they're very expensive, not terribly comfortable and I've heard it argued that one shouldn't have too many of them in ones lifetime.)
So the X-Rays suggested that there was something extremely funky going on with my back. Other funky goings on took place on the x-ray table, where this creeepy old indian radiologist appeared as if from nowhere and started stroking my cheek while prodding my ass! i mean, lovely if we're both consenting adults and everything, but who the hell are you and do you have children my age?? so he's stroking and prodding away and asking me where i'm from, then tells me that he has lots of questions about australia (oh i'm sure you do, now in the immortal words of the divine Judith Lucy, 'get your hands off my ass, pappy.') and i should come back when my back has healed and we can sit in the surgery after closing time and talk. oh absolutely. my first german date! eee! i don't know if it was his creepiness or the nausea from the horse tranquilizers, i mean, pain killers, but i very nearly gave the next patient something interesting to look at on the wall next to the table - hmmmbleeeugh!
Next it was off to the MRI room (this was the being tied up bit, they bind ones feet together to restrict movement), wandering about the place in my thermals by the way, very sexy, (meanwhile, we keep our clothes on for x-rays in australia, right?? what is this stripping down to the underwear business? it's WINTER here, crazy german people! if it hadn't been the same at physio i'd be concerned that this was a practice limited to dr. gropey's radiology salon) where a far more respectable looking doctor tried to explain the technique to me in rapid-fire german while i stared at the ceiling thanking my lucky lazy uni student stars that i'd gone to that lecture in neuropsych. i tuned back in just in time to hear him say that i just had to relax and listen to music. enja, he says. oh how pleasant! i told him i'd rather listen to the clanging of the machine. knowing what that meant about my thoughts on enja, he confessed that he did also have 2 INXS songs in the music system, so i said i'd take the rock n roll. on repeat. for 15 minutes. still preferable to enja.
15 claustrophobic minutes later, I'm told that all was exactly as my dad expected (he'll be glad to know he was right, AGAIN), the verterbrae are all stuck together and the bottom one is damaged, but not broken. they had thought there was more to it because my bottom two weren't sitting straight together (so it looked like i'd knocked one of it's little spinal cord keel) but it turns out that's just the way my back is. creepy doctor explained that that's because i'm quite strong, and i wonder if what he really means is 'built like a man-lady' because it certainly doesn't seem normal, so i'll check that out with my physiotherapist friend tomorrow.
I was however, ushered into the ultrasound room, HILARIOUS ('it'd be jesus coming back!'), where dr. smooth now had an opportunity to prod around on the front end, and insisted on holding my hand while performing the ultrasound! buddy, there's nothing in there and even if there was i would not be turning to you for emotional support! seems MRIs are very thorough things and can pick up all kinds of nasties, in this case (boys stop reading here and skip to the next paragraph, lady things follow which will only confuse you) a cyst on my ovary ('i've got a WHATNOW!?!?), which had me hyperventilating and having images of a barren, career-driven life (because i didn't know much about ovarian cysts and thus concluded that this could mean i couldn't have children) until i could get myself into an internet cafe and learn that 95% of cysts are benign and go away within three months. i also learned the process by which they're formed, and the different kinds that are possible (dermoid cysts can have hair and teeth. hot.), and the treatment methods. i *heart* the internet...
So back to the doctor and the advice was the same - take drugs and wait for it to get better. fantastic. i requested that she refer me to the physio so i don't spend all my beer money on someone doing something slightly more proactive about my health and went on my way.
London on the weekend - ayeee!
