There’s a helicopter flying very low over my office right now. I can only assume they’re trying to track me. Because I’m radioactive for the next day and a half!
I had my bone scan this morning to try and figure out what may be or may have been wrong with my foot. The technician assured me that he’s never seen anyone have an adverse reaction to the radioactive liquid he injected into my arm.
I said, “Oh, okay”, because I wasn’t really worried.
“You have like a 1 in 40 million chance of having a bad reaction,” he reassured me.
Knowing that I couldn’t let this one go with the polite head nod that I’ve mastered so well, I responded with “So, you’re telling me there’s a chance!”
Then it became apparent that Mike the Nuclear Medicine Technician, had absolutely no sense of humor and no knowledge of Jim Carrey movies. I figured those things were mandatory in medical school, but I could be wrong.
I’m hoping I have superpowers from the radioactive juice that is pumping throughout my body, but I’m not quite sure how to test those out.
I find out the resutls of said bone scan on Wednesday. Almost six weeks after the injury happened. You know, giving it plenty of time for it to heal on its own.