I expected to be out of the MRI place by 2:00 since I was told it would only take 45 minutes and it started at 1:00. Flash forward to me walking out the door at 3:15.
Now flash forward about 15 minues later. I'm standing in line at Hobby Lobby where I ran in real quick to get some yarn after my MRI.
My cell phone rings really loudly (Pink Panther Theme Music), and I start rummaging through my purse to make it stop.
HIM: Is this Pam?
HIM: This is Dr. C. You had your MRI this afternoon, didn't you?
ME: (Thinking, "Uh-oh. This can't be good." I nearly said, "Nope, that wasn't me. Bye!") Yes, I did.
HIM: I wanted to wait until Monday so I wouldn't ruin your weekend, but you really need to know this.
ME: (Shitting a brick but not saying anything.)
HIM: You have a severely herniated disk in your neck. This is not something that I can fix with a shot of steroids like I did for your lower back. You're going to need surgery immediately. I'm not talking about you waiting until Christmas or anything. I'm talking about within the next week.
ME: Oh. (I'm a great conversationalist, no?)
HIM: I don't do this surgery so I'm referring you to the spinal surgeon in our group, Dr. B. He should be calling you to tell you what time to see him in his office on Monday morning.
I want you to understand that you need to be very careful and take care of yourself this weekend. Don't lift anything or do anything that could injure your neck further. Here is my cell phone number. Call me immediately if you notice any change or if you lose control of your bowels (WTF?) or have any worsening pain. You'll need to go to the ER and check into the hospital.
ME: What number is it?
HIM: Excuse me? What number is what?
ME: The number on my back. You know, the spinal numbers? (Gawd! Just shut-up, Pam! My inner idiot has kicked-in big time and I can't think of the right word. I've only spoken English a short time. I can feel my face flushing.)
HIM: Oh, I know what you mean. It's the disk between the C-5 and C-6 vertebrae.
ME: Oh, okay. Hmm.
We hang up a few minutes later, and by this time I've paid for my stuff at Hobby Lobby and am sitting in my car. Yes, I was that rude, annoying lady in line on her cell phone the whole time I was being checked out. You can suck it, people. I have a thing on my back number!
Now that I've had time to come out of my stunned brain cloud (that's a medical term, I'm sure), I've made plans to see a neurosurgeon that my cousin works for on Monday for a second opinion. He'll most likely be the one to do the surgery if he agrees with the diagnosis.
Just GAH! I'm freaking out.