MRIs are all the rage around these parts lately. I had one earlier this week to determine whether my persistent and sometimes excruciating back pain was due to the poison toad I ate in a remote jungle in Borneo as part of a pre-zombie-hunt purification rite, or something more prosaic like a herniated disc:
Perry Ellis shows some backbone.
As you can see, the Matchbox car I swallowed as a child is no longer a problem. But aside from having completely digested a Porche 960, the image reveals a couple of more serious issues:
It’s a twofer!
Turns out I have two herniated discs, which are pressing on the nerve roots at the base of my spinal column. It’s a bit uncomfortable.
But the good news is that later today a doctor will take a long needle and insert it into my spine, making me the first one in the family to get an epidural (sorry, Mrs. Ellis, but I win this race). The needle will convey some painkiller and anti-inflammatory steroids to the site of the herniations, providing (I’m told) fairly instantaneous relief.
So the next time you see me, Pax, I’ll not only be pain free but totally pumped up and buff. It’s science!