Colonoscopy, MRI, what's next?

Happy late Valentine's Day. Here are some valentine cookies I thought about making for you!

It's the thought that counts right? I hope y'all had a nice Valentine's Day, with your sweeties. We watched Fireproof and had Take out while the kids played and ate dinner with friends. It was really nice. If you haven't seen Fireproof yet, I can't recommend it highly enough. I've seen all three of their movies, and Fly Wheel is still my fave, but Fireproof is awesome. The out takes and extras on the DVD alone were enough to make be glad I bought it.

Friday Tracy watched the kids while I went shopping after my MRI. I don't know if I told you or not, but I've had knee pain for the last few years, and in the last year or so it's gotten worse. One of our friends at church just had knee surgery and he recommended his doctor so I finally bit the bullet and went in last Tuesday. Friday I went in for an MRI, and that was an experience. I've had an MRI before, but not like this one. I pulled up to the address where the MRI was scheduled and it was a warehouse type building, in what looked like nothing short of a ravine. Down in a little valley on a dead end side road. Looked NUTHIN' like a medical facility. After filling out my entire life's history and providing photocopies of all my school records for K-12, I took a seat. Someone came to the door and called for someone in the waiting room. I thought it was a family member because she was just wearing jeans and a shirt, but then I noticed the file in her hands. A moment later another employee came to the door and called out for a second patient. She too had on street clothes, ones that caused me to recall tacky day during homecoming week in high school. How many pieces of Premiere Jewelery are really appropriate with a pair of stone washed black jeans and a stained Ole Miss T-shirt anyway, is there anything in Vogue about this? Now I hate to sound like a snob, 'cause I am totally not one. I'm nothing if I'm not plain. But I like my medical professionals in scrubs. There's a wide variety out there, many colors, some with animals, some with cartoon characters, you name it. Just something that announces that you possess some type of license or certificate, and a name tag is nice. Yes, yes, I like a name tag too. These people had none of this. I realize it was Friday. Maybe casual Friday. But really folks, how uncomfortable is a pair of scrubs?

Anyway, after about 15 minutes a man beckons me at the door. He looks as though he is picking me up for a date. Flashback 1987. He is wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, blue jeans, and brown hiking boots. At this point it is only myself and an 82year old man in the waiting room. He opens the door and says "you must be Calista, right this way"....I can hear 38 Special music in my head. I catch a faint whiff of Halston Z-14, or maybe Polo cologne. I follow him down the corridor and begin to wonder just how long this building could possibly be when he opens a door for me that leads outside. I said "we're going outside?" "Yes" he said, "it's right over there." Over where? I don't see anything but a bunch of vehicles, and oddly enough, a patio with some nice lawn furniture and a grill? At this point I'm looking around for a camera, I know I've been punked. "It's in that truck over there by my Mustang." I look up and there is a semi-truck in the parking lot. He had me to walk up on a lift and he hoisted me up to the truck entrance. There was a small little area the size of a bath room with two chairs and a laptop, and then a slightly larger area with the MRI tube. He told me to leave my purse in one of the chairs and he proceeded to strap me into the tube. Literally. He told me it would take 20 minutes and not to move. I couldn't move, I was strapped down. He left the room. All I could think of was the fact that I was tied to a board in a 32 degree room with half my body in this tube while he was out there with my purse. It turned into a Seinfeld moment. 20 minutes is enough to order yourself a new updated wardrobe by phone with my credit card, and I'd be none the wiser. It wouldn't be hard, they know everything about me including the name of my third grade teacher. I mean really, your info is compromised and you think "Wal-Mart, the bank, the waiter," but you don't think about your MRI technician.......I'm watching my accounts, if I see where I've been charged for a new leather jacket, or 80's Power Ballads, I now where I'm going!