Knee-ding Some Answers

So, yesterday I hobbled over to the medical center for my X-ray and MRI. Since my hockey blowout happened almost two weeks ago now, it was high time for some answers. The X-ray was up first, and although the nurse that was manning the machine was uber-hot, she didn't exactly have a feather touch. The session consisting of her pulling and pushing my leg into funny angles, and me yelping like a dog. It was a joy.

When I recovered from that sadism, it was time for the MRI. I heard stories about this behemoth - "It's loud," "It takes forever," "It can suck the blood out of your body if you have a high iron count" - but although the thing was huge, it didn't seem too terrible. The tech came in and said, "Would you like to hear some music?" I said, "Sure," which was the right answer, because the tech responded, "This thing is really loud, and the procedure lasts a half hour."

Eh, what?

The next thing I know, I'm sitting halfway inside this machine, listening to Billy Joel - I guess they didn't have The Ramones - and fighting off the worst-case scenarios that are flying through my puny little mind:

• "They're gonna find something is torn."
• "My hockey career is over."
• "I won't be able to play with my kids again."
  

You know, the standard Wyatt overreaction. I don't know if it was the stress of the whole thing, or just that it had been an exhausting week, but I ended up dozing of by the end of the procedure. (Anyone who knows me knows that I can pretty much sleep through anything.) The session ended, and the tech came in. He said that the results would be at my doctor's office in two business days, so I made an appointment for Wednesday morning. When I told Captain America this, he responded with his usual care and concern:

"TWO DAYS??? What is this, Cuba???"

Hopefully, I will know exactly what is wrong by Wednesday afternoon.