Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Have you ever had one of those totally fabulous days? As in the mother-load of fabulous days that you will never forget until the day you die? I did. Yesterday, in fact, and it will stick with me for a long long long time.
What constitutes such awesomeness in one 24 hour period of time? Ah, well, let's begin.
The first ingredient in a fabulous day is insomnia. You can't have a good day without shortening your sleep by a couple of hours. Add a run at a nippy 6:30 am freezing the hell out of your lungs, crabby kids and a messy house worthy of it's own reality show and you have the bones of a day like none other.
The second ingredient would be to go to a cardiologist bright and spanking early in the morning. Nothing says 'wake up!' to your heart like an appointment at 9am. There is something about the hospital that is so heartening. Sitting in the waiting room surrounded by folks twice my age or more wheezing into ventilators and shuffling off to the bathroom made me wonder why I was there, but seeing as I had chest pains just like everyone else waiting with me, I was in the right place. I get my name called and cue the real delight.
Medical stickies plastered to my chest are more fun than they sound. Really, it's like duck tape on steroids and once it's on, it doesn't want to come off. Whether you want it to or not, the nurses will put it on and take it off willy nilly with no apology for the layer of skin they took with it. I was so happy I was tearing.
After a chat with the doc, I got carted off to the dude over the EKG stress test. Treadmill Guy was an ex-marine who thinks whining is tacky. Granted he was such a hot little cutie I could pinch his cheeks, but when he started sandpapering my boobs all thought for his hotness was gone. I was on the verge of smacking him when he pulled out nine (yup, NINE!) medical patches, I nearly sang with delight. More duck tape on steroids! After getting hooked up like a lab rat, he started the treadmill. It was boring. Walking uphill is baby cakes. Ten minutes later at a flat out run with the treadmill inclined practically vertical, I was damning those baby cakes and swearing words in my head I didn't know could be cussed. At fifteen minutes, I screamed uncle to a sadistic Treadmill Guy who was a little too excited reading the heart feed pouring out of the machine. He let me rest and for my efforts I got a clean towel and water. I asked for morphine, but Treadmill Guy seemed to think I was having a good laugh. I should get my joke meter checked.
Off came the medical patches. I kept my gleeful yelps and joyous screams to a bare minimum, but when he yanked at the last patch over a supple area of skin on my lower rib cage a squeal of excitement escaped my lips. I loved it so much, I almost cried.
Next came the sonogram. Sono Chic was a nice gal. She stuffed her plastic wand into my ribs and dug around all while making lovely small talk. At first she said it would take a quick five minutes. She was so sweet and kind with that wand, she kept it up for twenty. Did I mention that there was more medical patches involved? I forgot? Oops. Well, four more patches went on right over the top of the scabbing from the previous rip offs. I was three layers of skin down with scant layers keeping my blood from pouring over the fashionable hospital gown keeping out a frosty draft.
Sono Chic handed me over to the Check Out Gals who fleeced me from my money with a smile. Four hours later I was sitting my my car tingling in more places than I cared to admit to and spent the rest of the day bent and hobbling like an old woman. It was such an enjoyable experience that I am spending all of today huddling under a blanket with a heating pad rotating around my happy body. Everyone should have days like this. I guarantee it will be the most unforgettable event in your life.
Yay, for fabulously awesome days.