And The Award For Best Animated Short Goes To...
Tomorrow is the Big Day. Yep. Really Big Day. I go in and find out what the x-rays say about my back and my hip…
(Sorry to disappoint you…such is my life, that a trip to see an x-ray is a Big Deal.)
Now…given my dream a while back, I am going to be seriously disappointed when the doc sticks that film up on the special white box and it’s not animated. I know there will be no spinning pieces of macaroni flying off my spine, but still. After the contortions they put me through to take the freaking pictures, there should be some residual entertainment value.
It’s terrible, but a part of me wants there to be something not-so-terrific showing on the x-rays. Not that I want there to be anything terrible wrong with me—I want it to be an easy fix, give me a pill and make it all better kind of fix—but there needs to be something tangible to show what’s causing all the pain.
My doc—being new to my medical woes—does not know that I have FMS, and I’m not volunteering the information. The last thing I want is to have some doubtful physician make assumptions about my sanity and placate me with “Oh, it’s just your FMS…”
I know what FMS feels like. This does not feel like that; this feels like shards of macaroni spinning at 10,000 rpm.
I just want it to be over with. And better. With no effort on my part.
Because I’m lazy that way.