I think what truly kept me from going bonkers in that tight tube was the eye mask the tech offered me. I’m glad I did not see just how cramped that space was.

I immediately felt horrible for the obese who could need some of these tests. There is no way anyone who is large could get into these things. I’m not sure how those open MRI’s work, as this was my first MRI of any kind. I imagine that there is, at least, a little extra room.

I was also lucky that I didn’t get pulled all the way in. I think I was in only to my waist. And, it was only for 15 minutes.

Rumor has it that MRI machines are loud. Yes, they are-even with earplugs in. The ones the tech gave me were bright yellow and felt like dense, possibly stale, marshmallows.

I’d planned to spend the 15 minutes visualizing my future life. Yeah, right. When the machine was cranking up it played music-middle of the bell curve boring, elevator music. Then the testing noises started up with what sounded like the opening riffs of, “Revolution,” by the Beatles. That was interesting.

All kinds of noises came out of that machine. At one point, The Beatles morphed into the soundtrack of a very hokey 1960’s black and white sci-fi film. Later, the noises sounded more like Slipknot. No, that’s not an endorsement of that, “band.” I think I like the CT Scan noises better. They sound like The Star Gate, from the film of the same name.

The target body part was my right shoulder. Thank you, shot person who rammed his Ford Ranger into three of us stopped at a red light in Casselberry. No, he didn’t need to call 911; he got into his truck and thought he could safely drive it down very busy Semoran Blvd.

The tech slightly elevated my right shoulder with a teeny pillow. My left arm was pulled up behind my head and supported against the inside of the tube with another small pillow. I rested my head on the flattest, most uncomfortable pillow I’ve ever had to use. For 15 minutes my right arm was in a horizontal, constant, “teacher, I know the answer, call on me,” mode.

“You’re all done,” was the sweetest sounding phrase I’d heard in weeks. When I began getting extracted from that metal and plastic cave, it felt like my left arm was going to get stuck. I almost panicked, but soon flattened my elbow more and I successfully exited.

I kept thinking, why does my 15 minute break at work feel like it goes by in a flash while that 15 minute MRI felt like an hour? God, this is not a funny joke.

Before the MRI, they took x-rays of my right shoulder. Those were uneventful. I’ve had so many x-rays in the last three years, I’m surprised my body does not give off a radioactive glow. No, I never exaggerate.

I still have no idea how this care is getting paid for. I know I will rot in hell before I fork over a dime. I will sue whoever I have to. I will write and testify before Congress about what a horrible joke no fault auto insurance is.

It’s absolutely unfair that anyone physically or materially harmed in an auto accident through the fault of another driver should have to pay one cent or to even have to use his or her own health or auto insurance to pay for medical treatment or a replacement vehicle. It is despicable.

How I got funneled into treatment at Complete Care is another chapter in the saga of my August 5th auto accident. I got dumped by Rothman Orthopaedics the day of my appointment with their doctor who was to evaluate my tendons. They told me they needed authorization from my primary physician before I could see that doctor. I was told this even after being told during my last visit that if I was still having tendon problems I should make an appointment with their soft tissue specialist. I was given her card: Michelle Mullins MD. Since my primary hadn’t treated the accident injury, she could not authorize the treatment for that day. Rothman did NOTHING to help me. They even lied and told me they couldn’t authorize or order more physical or occupational therapy because, “…we don’t do that.” It was an interesting response given that the only way I got the 20 sessions (of thirty prescribed) I’d had was because their medical professionals ordered it. I felt shoved out the door. I WAS shoved out the door.

In fact, I did some research and discovered that I might actually have a cause for a suit against Rothman Orthopaedics for medical abandonment. They did NOTHING after my appointment with their soft tissue doctor didn’t happen.

I still froth at the mouth when I think of how I got dumped. “Abandoned,” is exactly how I felt walking from their office back to Sprouts to finish my shift. I was so pissed.

If I hadn’t asked the receptionist at my primary’s office where I could get treatment, I’d be fucked. So, I’m definitely going to be calling a few attorneys. I’ll start with talking to the one from Dan Newlin who is working my accident case.

I’m not sure what the MRI is going to show. There is a chance that the tendons have healed on their own enough that I don’t need therapy. But, just the two consecutive days I’m working do aggravate my shoulder tendons.

When the tests were done I was told to check out with the receptionist out front. She gave me two sheets that each have a QR code on them: one for the x-Ray, the other for the MRI. I can scan them and view the images. That is so cool.