So I was riding in the car Sunday night with the dog. Beth was driving. Ashton was aggravating and wouldn't stay in the back seat. One of the times (the last time) I pushed him toward the back seat, my shoulder became dislocated. The pain grabbed me and made me stop everything I was doing to concentrate on what had just happened.
I decided to go to the emergency room in Camilla, which turned out to be a bad decision. I waited twenty minutes as one of two patients in the ER to be called back. My vitals were taken. Five minutes. The "doctor" came in, asked a few questions, said they'd have to X-ray. Five more minutes. Dirty X-ray room; funny smell. Stephen King story coming, I swear.
Back to the exam room. Twenty minutes passed as we listened to the doctor talk to the receptionist about his irrigation system. I stepped outside so as to be seen. The "doctor" saw me and ended his conversation. He came into the room and basically said the X-rays told nothing (nor did they three years ago), and I'd have to go see an orthopedist. But here's some Vicodin and a sling.
Monday: off to Thomasville to find a real doctor. Call around to the orthopedist and find one willing to see me. At 2:30. Beth and I went shopping and looking for baby stuff and books. We had a good time. Beth also had an appointment that morning; the baby is fine.
The orthopedist's assistant actually saw me, but it was better than Mitchell County Hospital. He performed a more thorough exam on my shoulder, said up front that the X-rays were only needed to make sure I didn't chip a bone, and ordered an MRI. I was done.
The MRI took place this morning and I slept through most of it. Monday we find out what I really did to my shoulder (the suspense is killing you, isn't it?)
Oh, yeah, watch the debate tonight; it just may be the most interesting one of the four this year. More tomorrow.
1 comment:
I understand the shoulder pain. I often wake up in the middle of the night in pain because I sleep on my shoulder wrong and the shoulder rolls over the nerve. I guess that is one of the problems with having a bad rotator cuff.
The scariest hospital I have ever been to was the county hospital in Des Moines. I was pretty sure that any hospital that needed police protection was not where I wanted to be treated. Maybe you weren't in a hospital at all, maybe it was a Stephen King movie.
Get well soon. I am going to need a wingman when the great President of this United States sends me to Iraq. If he reads any of the things I post about him, I might get sent alone to the middle of Fallujah
Post a Comment