This is what you need to get caught up: I have a really bum right hip and I am not 90 years old. I am, in fact, turning 28 later this month and, for all intents and purposes, should be at my peak of physical fitness and health.
How it happened: I think it all really started back in early 2008 when I was rock climbing with a friend (bouldering in a gym) and fell off the wall, fracturing my ankle and spraining every muscle in my foot and ankle, causing me to put all my weight on one side, causing chronic sciatica, causing regular pain, which I left basically unattended till January 2011. That was the point when I realized I was too fat and needed to exercise six days a week to get skinny, and it worked, but it also upped the amount of pain I experienced.
Medical terms: Torn labrum (some special cartilage lining that space between my femur and my hip socket that is, well, torn) and hip dysplasia (means my hip isn’t right. Or something like that.)
Anyhow, last Friday I had to get a third MRI on my hip (pelvic area, this time around — yeah, I totally wrote “pelvic”) and a bone scan, both ordered by the fourth orthopedist I’ve been to since the entire thing began, to rule everything out. According to this very dry, boring man, the torn labrum isn’t much of a problem for me and isn’t really causing the majority of my pain, and he has taken it upon himself to find out what it is. I appreciate this, I really do, but I am not holding out a lot of hope that he will come back with anything more than conjecture. [I don’t hate doctors, and I’m not saying anything about the health care system we have, either.]
I hate tests. They’re completely un-fun and are a great way to ruin a perfectly good day. And unfortunately these tests were going to take around 3 1/2 hours to complete because something something isotopes and then the injection something something wait 2 1/2 hours before scan blah blah blah. Husband brought his command center (see also: laptop) and a sleeve of Zesta saltines, I brought my water bottle to stay hydrated, and then the starting pistol went off and the games began.
The Low Point
I lived through the injection of isotopes by way of IV and had headed over to the MRI department to get that party started. A very nice man told me to change into a hospital gown AND one size fits all scrubs bottoms because…modesty reigns…and he shut the door to my dressing room. As I was tying the hospital gown shut in the back, “I’m Sexy and I Know It” by LMFAO started playing in my mind and — here’s the kicker — I liked it. I may or may not have dropped it like it was hot once or twice before opening the door, too, and I don’t even know what that means.