Well, that was a bust, and I don’t mean Dolly Parton!

For those of you following my hernia saga:

And on a completely different topic, MRI’s, pain and spreading the word;

today I had an appointment with a sports medicine doctor, to whom I was referred by my doctor.  Not his fault.  Can’t win ’em all.

Had never heard of an obturator hernia, and had less than 10 minutes to not find out about them.  So as

played through my mind, I remembered a very helpful doctor who had performed radio-ablation on my ilio-inguinal nerve and had been inquisitive and imaginative, not to mention actually came to believe me that there was something mechanical wrong with me.  So I have written to him, and attached the results of my MRI.  And tomorrow I can go and pick up the physical scan on a cd, but who knows what software would be needed to actually get to see the pictures.

I had prepared myself before we went, knowing that if this doctor couldn’t help me, another one could.  That is a lesson I have long learnt [learned for some of you modern readers, grump, ed.] but the actual moment of realiszation that one has waited in vain to speak to someone who simply is in no way the right person, regardless of their attitude, is grumpifying.

Back to throwing spaghetti at the wall.  Just in case a world famous radiologist who specializes in obscure injuries that might be revealed by this MRI is reading my blog, here is a picture of the 2nd page of the results:

IMG_1472

At least I am getting a thorough anatomy lesson!  Makes trimming meat a whole new experience.

There, it is off my chest, speaking of busts.  And in my case, I really don’t mean Dolly Parton.  More like Dolly Spartan.

 

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