Sorry Folks, Looks Like I'm Gonna Die

First off, on Saturday I went to get my MRI.

The receptionist handed me a stack of forms and a pen.

"You have 30 minutes to complete these forms. You will receive one point for each question marked correctly and minus one quarter point for each question marked incorrectly. You may begin."

Actually, it was a pretty easy test. The questions were almost all variations on "Do you have, or have you ever plausibly had, [metal object] in [body part]."

After the test, they told me to empty my pockets. Both pockets? Yes. What about the back ones? Yes. Stuff that's not made out of metal? Yes. What about this stuff? *empties pockets of various miscellaneous items chosen specifically for the occasion*

Once deprived of my most precious pocket contents, I was put on a white table where they asked me to lie down and strapped down my gimp leg. Why, I don't know. You'd think if they were worried about a leg making a break for it they would have strapped the leg that could actually move. Oh well.

They asked me what radio station I'd like to listen to. I told them 95.5 and they said they didn't get that. I said 770 and they said they didn't get that either. Finally, I was like, whatever, and ended up listening to some smooth jazz station.

The radio plays over some headphones which block the noise of the very loud MRI machine. I was situated on a table that elevated itself and then sucked me into the machine which started spitting like a gattling gun or an overpowered washing machine with lead bricks in the load. This continued for 20 minutes. I eventually took off the headphones. Listening to the machine was much cooler.

Eventually, they kicked me out and I didn't get invited back till Monday, when the orthopedic specialist was supposed to check it out.

After waiting in a long line with lots of old people and forking over a $25 co-pay (pretty much everytime you enter another room they want a different co-pay for something) I finally got to see the doctor.

He poked at my leg, sat on it, bent it as far as he could, and all the while asked "Does this hurt? Does this hurt? Does this hurt?" Naturally, my answer was "YES FOR THE LOVE OF MERCY STOP IT!"

Turned out that was just for show. Next he was like, "Alright, let's look at the MRI and find out what's wrong with you."

Long story short, I'm going to die. Or at least probably need to have surgery to rebuild my ACL. They gave me a new leg brace that actually bends (Hallelujah!) and put me down for physical therapy here in Socorro. The clinic is far enough away that I figure I can get my physical therapy just by walking there and back, but maybe I'll come inside for a little while just because when I was there today I saw a lot of neat stuff that might be fun to break.

The important lesson learned from all this is... every room at that hospital has ethernet access and an unprotected Windows terminal, and they access all of their client data and whatnot through telnet. Windows? Telnet? Next time I'm bringing my laptop. That is just too easy to resist.