At Cuan and Padraiga's coronation about 9 months ago, I took an injury to my left shoulder. I first thought it was just a deep bone bruise so I kept playing through it. After a couple of months I got it X-rayed. Nothing. Doctor gives me a prescription for Super Vitamin I with direction to take it religiously and lay off the activity for a while.

Okay I took a little break, sort of, and followed his directions, sort of, but the problem didn't go away. Over this period I've tried lots of stretching, a visit to a chiropractor (with an extremity certification), I even bought one of those giant 15 speed percussion massagers to work the muscles of the shoulder and back. I starting going to the weight room working on nautilus machines with relatively light weight. Doing a "military press" for some reason made it feel better but "butterflies" made me scream like a little girl. Hell, I can't even do one measly pushup it hurts so damn much.

So finally went to my new doctor giving her the story. She poked me in the shoulder, had me do some resistance tests, and wrote me a referral for an MRI. I got those results back yesterday. But before I tell you that, let me tell you a little story...

This particular MRI Center only does early morning and late at test scans. As such, my appointment was for 9pm last Wednesday night. I got there 30 minutes early as traffic hadn't been as bad as I thought it might giving me plenty of time to fill out the paperwork and read my book. Nine o'clock on the nose, a friendly technician stuck her head in the waiting room to call me back. As I can't remember her name, let's simply call her Nancy.

Nancy took me back to an area that looked like a series of small closest with a lamp, bedside dresser, and a comfy chair. As apparently 9pm is not one of their rush hours I was quickly directed to drop all my stuff in the locking dresser, grab the key, and follow her. Easy enough.

Nancy took me into the room with the machine and asked me how much I weighted. Now, I've put on a few pounds over the last few years but surely she didn't think I couldn't fit in the tube? Maybe she thought I'd break her conveyor belt. Anyway, with that information in hand, Nancy asked me to lie down on the platform and secure my shoulder as tight to the left shoulder brace as I could stand. She gave me a set of earplugs as the noise can get pretty loud in the tube. The platform had a nice comply pillow and excellent back support so I decided to take Nancy up on the offer of a blanket.

"This will take about 25 minutes. A lot of people just decide to take a nap," Nancy offered with a friendly smile.

"Sounds good to me." As I'm not claustrophobic, the tube shouldn't bother me.

"Alright, I'm going to back you in now."

I'm already yawning as I shut my eyes and settle in for the 25 minute picture fest, "Wake me when it's over."

So the platform starts its slow roll backward into the tube and Nancy is telling me about the type of noise I'm going to hear and that she'll be speaking to me through the intercom. The platform stops moving and I'm now noticing that my shoulders are brushing both sides on the tube. I'm remembering Nancy's direction not to move much while I'm hearing the "clicking" noise and I'm thinking she won't have much to worry about.

Then I opened my eyes...

Then I screamed.

Not a quick scream but a long, panicked, "falling from a building" type scream. "ARGHHHH, PULL ME OUT, PULL ME OUT! ARGHHHH, PULL ME OUT, PULL ME OUT!"

Did I mention that the platform moves at a slow roll? It seemed a lot slower going out then coming in.

The platform stops and I sit up. "Are you okay?" Nancy is obviously nervous for me.

"Yeah, it just surprised me that's all. Give me a second to prepare myself mentally and we can try it again."

"You sure? We can reschedule this until we can get someone to prescribe you some valium," Nancy's concern was starting to seem less for me and more for her own safety.

I'm staring down the tube now challenging it as I would an opponent facing me in the finals of crown, "No, no. I'm ready. Let's do this."

"Your head really is close to the opening on the other side. If you tilt your head back you can see the light coming in from the other side and feel the fan blowing on your face."

Nancy's tactic for facing this enemy seemed sound. As she rolled me and the platform back into the tube, this time with my eyes open, I added my own tactic of humming the same little lullaby I've hummed to both my boys while attempting to get them to relax for bed.

Nancy's mechanical voice breaks through the tubular barrier as she warns me that the first pictures are beginning. After a series of five, five minute intervals the platform starts to roll once more. In an attempt to recover some of my dignity, I struggled to come up with a quick joke. "I'd like three 8x10s and a dozen wallets please."

"You got it." She has obviously heard that one before but is nonetheless polite.

Nancy sends me on my way with my copies tucked under my arm and instructions to call my doctor in 3 days for the results. Not wishing to wait that long, as soon as I got home I pulled out the pictures and attempted a quick self diagnosis. I could tell where there was bone, muscle, and fat but I had no idea what the black stuff was or if the way the muscles joined were correct or not. I put the photos away.

Now on to the "real" diagnosis. The MRI showed I have swelling in the AC joint and that one of the nerves is being pinched. I'm to make an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon who will likely treat it with cortisone steroid injections and physical therapy. I'm not suppose to exercise (or fight) until appointment and therapy begins and the doctor clears me.

So, what have we learned today? Well, my small humble advice to you is that if you ever need an MRI, go into it with your eyes wide open.