Dateline Boston — I didn’t like the breezy orthopedist whom I saw about my knee, and I was still in pain eight months later. So I got a second opinion. I saw the head doctor at one of the best hospitals in Boston. When Husband and I arrived, there was a building that had the doctor’s name written all over it. Literally. The Second Opinion Doctor’s Center for Training and Rehabilitation. Wow.
We waited for him for almost an hour. When he came in, he immediately started asking questions. He didn’t introduce himself (“He didn’t have to!” quipped Husband afterwards) and didn’t shake my hand. Nothing. What is with doctors not being polite?
His exam took five minutes. He wanted me to get another MRI so he could compare it with the one I got a few months ago. Once he got the results, he would decide if I needed surgery or lubricating injections. He didn’t give me a name for what was wrong with my knee, but he said it appeared to be from overuse. He told me the name of the MRI place I could go to, which was coincidentally down the block from my house. At the checkout counter, the woman said that someone would call me that day to set up the MRI appointment.
Silence
No one ever did, so I called the MRI place myself the next day and got an appointment that day. That MRI experience was very different from the first one. The building was nice, and the MRI room was futuristic looking. I didn’t get a gown and ridiculous socks this time; I kept my clothes on, wearing long johns instead of hospital shorts they would have given me if I had not had that extra layer. One interesting thing was that the MRI tech made sure my long johns weren’t Lululemon or UnderAmour, because apparently those pants have metal in them. Rock on!
The tech reminded me to stay absolutely still, then told me he was going to give me headphones; what kind of music would I like? I was caught off guard. Music? What kind of music would be soothing for an MRI? I stammered, “Uh, Adele!” He gave me the panic bulb, left, and a minute later, a very tinny Adele blasted through the headphones. I find MRIs to be quite relaxing. I lay there listening to Adele and some other artists who were supposed to sound like Adele (Coldplay?), and six songs later, I was done.
The next day I got two calls from two different MRI offices, wanting to schedule an appointment. Seems that everyone in Boston wanted to be the first to take my MRI! I had to break the news that I had already gotten my MRI, thank you. Wasn’t sure when I would hear from the doctor’s office. Lo and behold, the office called me that evening with results! Doctor’s visit Monday, MRI Tuesday, diagnosis Wednesday. Couldn’t get any better!
The diagnosis? Osteoarthritis, the wearing down of cartilage in my knee due to age and repetitive movement, i.e. a million squats from working with kids for 30 years. Treatment? Lubricating injections, once a week for three weeks. They could last six months or two years, depending on the person. Finally, an answer! Relief! Hopefully less pain! The squeaky wheel gets the grease, all right. Or in my case, the squeaky joints get lubricating injections. I’ll see you on the dance floor!
Ms. Vaillancourt may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
