Three Little Letters...One Big Pain

I have a high pain tolerance. Being an accident-prone individual, I've had to acquire this level of tolerance in order to survive. Need a root canal? No need for pain killers. No numbing necessary. Break your shoulder? I drive myself to the ER and go three days with no treatment. Break your butt-bone? I waited to see the doctor and drove myself to get an x-ray. The solution each of the doctors had? Prescription for drugs ranging from Tylenol to Morphine.

One thing none of my loved ones will ever have to worry about is me being a drug addict or a pill pusher. I actually returned a prescription for Oxycodone and Valium to my doctor saying I didn't want it to get in the hands of the wrong people...and I wouldn't be needing them.

Sure, I could have made a fortune pedalling these prescription drugs, but that little Jimminy Cricket on my shoulder was blaring in my ear, "always let your conscience be your guide..." Damn cricket.

So, when I went to the doctor and she said, we need to do an MRI to determine the severity of damage to your shoulder, I didn't flinch. I've had x-rays, CAT scans, ultrasounds and cardboard film shoved under my tongue. I didn't think twice.

I wasn't worried about being in a confined space for 45 minutes. I wasn't worried about having a wardrobe malfunction with the flimsy hospital gowns. I wasn't worried...period.

And then I showed up for the MRI. There are no words to describe the injustice that small, little acronym does for the procedure. There was no warning. There was no describing the preparation. There was no web-site to turn to prior to the process so that I could adequately arm myself.

When I showed up, I was told to change. I sat on the edge of the cold bed as the nurse began to sterilize my shoulder. And that's when I saw it. A needle the size of a meat thermometer. Where in the heck was she planning on sticking that? (I had a few ideas of my own).

"You'll feel something like a small bee sting and that should be it."

REALLY?

I don't know what the hell type of bees Nurse Cruelty studied, but I believe it was more like the whole hornet's nest. After jabbing my shoulder blade to get a burning fluid into my rotator joint, she then pulled out a tube the size of a fishing rod and inserted it into the meat thermometer needle. Bee sting...right.

Instantly, my shoulder swelled up. Completely disfigured with a shoulder on fire, they led me to the room where they had me sit on a bed that rolled (very slowly) into a space-age capsule.

Even with the loud beeping, slight rocking and throbbing pain throughout my right side, I fell asleep. The best 45 minutes of sleep I've had in a long time. No drugs needed.

M-R-I -- What a cute little way to abbreviate Magnetic Resonance Imaging to make it seem less intimidating.

A Fierce Fire-Inducing Procedure That Will Have You Begging to Cut Off Body Parts.
AFFIPTWHYBTCOBP - that's more like it!