Here’s a recap on yesterday's doctor’s visit. If you don’t know why I went to the doctor and you care, and I know you do, read HERE.
2:30 p.m. - Enter Mr. Attractive-Young-Sport’s Doc and Mr. Attractive-Young Assistant.
Doc: Hi, nice to meet you what’s going on?
Me: Hip stress fracture…blah blah…recovery…blah blah…training….ass pain…blah blah.
Doc: Let’s take a look and a feel, please lay on your stomach
I do as I am told because I am a rule follower and I’m not as educated as this doctor. Plus, these two have out numbered me and my ass hurts. I don’t have a lot of fight in me.
Doc: {Lifting my legs, pushing on things} Does this hurt?
Me: {Trying not fart} Nope.
Doc: {Pressing on my pelvic bone inching closer and closer to my woman parts}. Is this tender?
Me: {Gulping, trying to appear as if this happens every day and I’m totally fine with it} - Kinda
Doc: {Exactly a millimeter away from popping my cherry}: Any pain?
Me {sweating}: A bit. Do you have a cigarette?
I find it funny that you meet someone - a doctor or massage therapist or hooker - within two minutes they are touching skin and holes and orifices that hardly anyone gets to touch. I know it’s their job and that what they are doing is completely appropriate, but it still can be kind of surreal. I can only imagine how it is for guys at their physicals – “Hi I’m your doctor. Now I’m going to insert a finger into your anus, sound good?”
So, you want to to know the verdict?
My cherry is still intact.
The good news is, he does not think I have a pelvic stress fracture. He thinks it’s bursitis or some kind of high hamstring tendonitis. But, he’s really not sure. Story of my life.
So, he has ordered the magical MRI. I have resisted this expensive test, but I have been told one too many conflicting things over the past few months. I’d like technology to do its thing and give me some facts. At least if I know for certain what I am dealing with I have a better chance of tackling the problem, right? KIP!! (Knowledge is Power).
Here’s the thing. I really wish I had an MRI machine in my house. It would making being a runner so much easier. I mean if Angelina Jolie or Beyoncé can have ultrasounds they carry around when they’re pregnant, I should be able to have an MRI machine. Christmas is right around the corner.
Hoping for an MRI and answers by the end of the week. How’s that for an update?
KIP!
Anything crazy ever happen to you at the doctor, massage therapist, or PT? Not really. Once they were doing the reflex test on my knee and my clog went flying across the room and hit the nurse. That’s it. Oh, and once I had a massage in Mexico that took me to at least third base.
SUAR
