My foot doctor wants me to have an MRI done to rule out a stress fracture or tear in my foot, as it's still not getting better after six months.
It of course took me three weeks to schedule it. David's been away a lot for work and Sawyer does not nap anymore, which means when David is home I can't sneak away while the kids are sleeping.
I'm supposed to be running a marathon in less than two months, and I haven't trained the way I need to because I'm babying my foot. I'm only running twice instead of three times during the week (I spin the other two days). I do my long run on Saturdays.
My foot pain is getting to the point where I can't chase around the kids as much as I'd like to while we're playing outside. I need this foot thing to be figured out.
I finally had my MRI today. When I left, Sage was about to go down for her nap. I figured David would plop Sawyer in front of a movie.
It was freezing in the waiting room. They were running a little behind, which made me a little anxious because I knew I had to get back home ASAP to relieve David, who was attempting to work. I was also freezing, in case I didn't mention that.
Luckily they had a current issue of People for me to read to take my mind off how freezing I was. They finally moved me to another - warmer - waiting room. There, they taped a little marker to the top and bottom of my foot to indicate where the pain is.
Then it was time for the MRI. Ever had an MRI? I have not. I had no idea what to expect. I didn't have to go all the way in the tube thingy because it was just for my foot, so claustrophobia wasn't an issue.
There was this weird sound, which I thought was like techno music, playing in the room. I immediately started doing the Robot. Then the tech told me that it's not music, it's something to do with the machinery. Who knew?
I layed (lied?) on my stomach. She gave me a pair of earplugs because she said I'd hear some loud knocking. I was all, Okay, I'm sure it can't be as bad as Sage crying directly into my eardrum, right?
The tech leaves the room. All I hear is the techno beat. Then there's a noise like a microphone being turned on, and BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM! OMG, this wasn't just a little knocking! This was like someone implanted an alarm clock on my frontal lobe and I couldn't reach in to turn it off.
It would stop, then I'd hear that microphone sound, and WAAAWAAAWAAAWAAA ENENENENEN.
So, you know, I worked around it. Because despite the jackhammering inside my skull, I still dozed off. Oh yes. As every mom knows, if you are lying down, and there is no child to watch to make sure he doesn't stab his sister in the eye, no one asking for one more cup of milk or another game of Roll the Ball, NO ONE ASKING FOR ANYTHING, well, then, it's nighty-night.
At least I didn't drool on the pillow.
I was almost sad when the whole thing was over. I had to, you know, get up.
Back home, both kids were awake and ready to go. Made me long for the "quiet" of that MRI. At least for another five minutes.
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