I realized while at the clinic this week for x-rays on my hip that the "pajama bottom" scrubs actually coordinated with my outfit. Well, the part of the outfit that I didn't have to change.
I'm not sure if that says more about the scrubs buyers at the clinic or the drab neutral nature of my wardrobe. Where I see "flexible" could be interpreted as non-committal.
Not my first X-ray. First X-ray on this hip. X-ray techs are not supposed to say anything about the images because they are not considered qualified to evaluate them. Perfectly personable fellow; says "I hope everything goes well for you" to me on my way out. WTF is that supposed to mean?!? He didn't know he was X-raying a professional researcher (seriously) with a background in biomedical research (yes, still seriously), who's now going to go research whatever there is to know about what you can diagnose from an X-ray.
"Have a nice day" would have been better.
Saving grace: I only had to wait about 2 hours for results. That's almost magic. Then again, quick results can sometimes mean there's something wrong. Really wrong. So.
It's official I have osteoarthritis in my hip. I'm no spring chicken, but a little young for this. Not the end of my world, and what I suspected. Ready for the challenge. I'll have to change out the coordinating scrubs for my big-girl panties and make some serious commitments to fitness. And I could weigh less. And I will hope this isn't a sign that arthritis will be my shroud of aging.
Aging is not for sissies.
