We all have a little John John in us...

I’m currently sitting in the waiting room of the Imaging Department of Wilcox Hospital, waiting for my name to be called so I can get what will be my third MRI in the last twelve months. It’s getting tiresome, this year and a half long string of injury and illness. But, if you’re gonna bright side it, I’ve got great health insurance and if you’re gonna be laid up somewhere for a bit there aren’t many places better than Kauai. Things could be worse. Much worse.

The funny thing is, I kind of like MRIs. I’m not typically a fan of confined spaces, but, for whatever reason, I find being stuffed into a garbage can that’s being beat on with hammers very relaxing. Also, I’ve read a lot of stuff online that says magnets have special powers so maybe all this exposure will make me a more attractive person! Ha! Get it?

There are a few people in here… Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever dealt with a sports injury that required surgery and rehab (not the drug kind), but you notice that the majority of people who blow out joints don’t do it getting radical. It’s more often a “rolled my ankle getting out of bed and the 350 lbs I carry everywhere made it explode” situation. I have no idea how they’re going to squeeze into the MRI machine. Those things are cramped. I have to contort my upper body into this weird shoulders-together shape to fit in one. I’ve read online that some places take fatties to the zoo, but we don’t have one here. Maybe the tech just uses a stick to jam ’em in? Like, the stick they use to load a cannon. Which is called a “rammer.”

When I got my shoulder surgery last year they used some dead guy’s ligament and I thought it would be funny to say, “It’s not from a black guy, right?” No one laughed but me. It made things a little awkward, but I just did what I always do when I open my mouth wide enough to jam a foot in ankle deep and pretended it didn’t happen until everyone either forgot or let it go.

Whenever I’m going under general anesthesia I make sure to ask the surgical team to refrain from raping me. I understand there’s no reason to think that would stop anyone, but I kind of hope that, once I’m out cold and one of the nurses is all, “Alright! Let’s rape this dude!” someone will point out, “Hey, he asked us to not.” “Yeah, keep it in your pants, we’ll just get the next guy.”
Once a surgeon came back, “Hey, I’m not a dentist!” which I thought was very funny. I don’t know why the fact that a doctor has a sense of humor would make me feel better, but it does. I suppose it shouldn’t What if I woke up and he’d sewn my dick to my leg as a prank? That’s not very funny.

There are two big flat screens in the waiting room. One’s playing daytime TV, the other is just a scrolling hospital/advertisement/news thing. I asked if they could put the surf contest on the second TV, but the lady says she’s not allowed. She won’t give me the wireless password either and the 3G connection sucks, so I guess I don’t get to watch the ladies in Fiji. No big deal, I’m sure I can imagine how it goes. A lot of really hesitant surfing, punctuated by the small handful of girls who can blow up powerful surf.

Something that sucks about living on an isolated tropical island, the medical community is very small. Meaning that there are only a few MRI machines on the island, and they’re always booked solid. Since my current deal is a little too serious to wait two months for an appointment they’re being cool and squeezing me in. But that means I have to sit here with my thumb up my ass until they’ve got time for me. Which could be half an hour, could be all day. Thank god it’s 2015 and we’ve got all these neat tech devices. Otherwise there’d be nothing to occupy my mind but years old copies of Entertainment Weekly and the occasional car mag.

My spirits are bolstered a little by the news of JJs ankle sprain. I watch the kid surf and can feel my joints popping, it’s not fair that he should this invincible young man who has the world by the short hairs. It’s nice to know he’s human. It gives me a little more patience during what may end up being another months long recovery.