Oct 11 2006
The Wire
That’s me, all wired up like a suicide bomber, but a lot more nervous, since I’m not expecting Paradise and/or unlimited virgins at my disposal when I’m finished with this exercise (at noon tomorrow, aka not soon enough).
Yesterday, I went to the doctor for a check-up. I’d spent so much time (and money) dealing with my mental health that I had kind of neglected the physical part. That’s why I ended up with the Sadistic Schedule of a Mashing Mammogram and a Pernicious Pap Test within the space of a week. So the worst I was expecting was the horror of public transit to get there and the poking and prodding to be endured upon arrival.
However, my doctor noted “a couple of irregularities” in my heartbeat, so her technician wired me up. The wires are attached to a box type thing that is attached in turn to whatever stylish outfit I happen to be wearing. It even gets to sleep with me, the lucky thing. Once the 48 hours are up, I have to bring Self and cardiac accessories back to the doctor. They’ll send it to be read somewhere, which takes two weeks (aka not soon enough).
And I thought my heart was my least vulnerable spot.