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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I got my MRI results today. My sister read them to me over the phone on my lunch break while I was standing at a bus stop waiting (obviously) for a bus, and I had to sit down. I was really at the same time bloody relieved and bloody scared.

Seems I have three - that's THREE - prolapsed discs in my back. A prolapsed disc is kind of the same thing as what people call a slipped disc, although unfortunately, although the term implies that it can be slipped back in to place, I've just read on the internet that this means the discs have actually burst. Nothing, in my opinion, should ever be involved in bursting while inside your body. Call me old fashioned, but that's the way I think about things. There are rules that need to be followed.

So, the last three discs in my spine have burst, and two of them are sticking in to the nerve there, which isn't a nice thing for those two to do. Could be worse, apparently, my mother has kindly explained - if the bottom one was sticking out as well, I'd've lost control of my legs. Which may look funny in a Jim Carey / Mr Bean type situation, but in real life is quite the inconvenience, or so I'm told.

I had a bit of a lady fainting fit at work when I got back in, and had to stumble to the toilet to repair my mascara and breathe deeply of the fresh air out the window, because my consultant in Edinburgh seemed to think that surgery was called for. I say no to knives in the back. No, no, no. Call me old fashioned again, if you really must, but that's just another one of my rules. No knives in my back.

So now. I've got an appointment with a lady doctor on Wednesday who will tell me what's what and what is to happen next. I'm very much looking forward to that, but will bring a note of my rules along just so that she's clear on things.


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