"Let me tell you about your butt" is a crappy pickup line

My butt is broken, or at least looks, feels, and acts that way.  On the advice of my physical therapists (a fun family has physical therapists for both adults and children) I had an x-ray of my pelvis today, to determine if my tragic fall caused a fancy schmancy injury - the pelvic avulsion fracture. This type of injury occurs most often in athletes, and ya'll know how athletic I am. I am at least athletic enough to be suspected of being able to wrench my own body heroically to save my precious baby from a smash to the head, and in so doing create enough torque to break bone. It is true that I saved her very well, her coat was not even wet after our crash to the pavement. I am powerful, but secretive. Deeply secretive. I was hiding the answers even from myself, and then I got professional help.  The physical therapists don't want to treat me anymore until we rule out a higher level of injury.  I think they are bored because the depth of the color of the leg length bruise is waning but that is a different post.

I asked the radiology clinic staff if I could speak to the radiologist or technician myself, to learn about my results, since the x-ray gets developed pretty much instantaneously. No, they could not speak to me about my butt. HIPAA prevents disclosure of private information. Even to me. My ass is officially top secret, strictly a need to know topic. Hopefully tomorrow, in the fullness of time, the radiologist will share the information with my regular doctor, who will hopefully have time to call me before the office closes for its Christmas party. So more people can know the secrets of my ass. Including me.