When Dr. Loli scheduled this test, some 6 months ago, I thought that it was so far into the future that it didn't matter, as who ever dreamed of living that long? This past Friday, while out doing things, I came home to a message on my answering machine which is a real rarity. I guess with emails and cell phones, I'm one of the most available people on the planet, but there it was "1" flashing. I pressed the proper button after a few tries and there was a voice of a clearly homosexual gentleman giving me instructions for my Monday AM scheduled "Stress Test". The voice was heavy with a lisping effect and I always wonder if the guy is gay because he has a lisp or if he was gay first and decided to use a lisp to convey that message to his peers. Once again, the chicken before the egg theory. My first reaction was "no fucking way", I'm not doing that test again, not this soon. After all, it is up to me, even though these guys act like they're ORDERING you. Then I remember that little tickle in my chest last week and think maybe I should get it checked? So I go ahead and follow through like the little puppet I am. The instructions are not to drink ANY coffee for 24 hours prior to testing, along with anything that may be caffeine, chocolate, colas, etc... Then, the day of the Stress test, don't eat or drink ANY-FUCKING-THING! I go to bed early and set my alarm clock, something that I seldom touch, and go off to sleep. At 7 AM, and that's early for me, some bitch is chattering away next to my bed and my first thought is that I fell asleep in public, one of my most dreaded fears, as I'm a snorer. I once fell asleep on a plane and was awakened to 40 or 50 people complaining, or was that a nightmare too? It's barely light out here at 7 AM and somehow I manage to get up instead of going back to sleep. I turn on the heat and realize I'm freezing my ass off, as it's about 58 degrees in my bedroom, because I forgot to turn on the thermostat. I do that and run back to the warmth of my covers and wait, repeatedly testing myself to see if I'm asleep? About 7:10, I suspect it's warm enough to try it again and run to the shower and turn it up high and wait for the hot water, that doesn't disappoint me. I strip and hop in and make sure my entire body is getting an equal amount of water, so as to not risk a chill. Shower, shave, wash my remaining hair and get out. I currently have a mustache and goatee, so I have to detail it out in the mirror and make sure I haven't eliminated 1/2 of it in the shower shave. I'm good, the heat is starting to work and I realize it's getting too hot in there. I shut off the heater and dry my 12 hairs, dress and go downstairs, with Zoie doing her impression of WTF? By now it's light outside and I realize it's a rainy day again and I'm sure I'm doomed.
Guess what? When you're dressed and showered and shaved at 7:30 AM and you can't drink coffee or eat and you're told to get there a little early, there's not much left to do around the house, so I leave after giving Zoie toast and water that she proceeds to make into paper mashe' and smearing all over the floor and platform that she eats on, but I digress. I climb into my Expedition, that I have reactivated since gas prices have dropped temporarily and join traffic that is evidently still pretty enthusiastic about getting to what is left of their jobs.
I was told to arrive early if I could and did. I'm greeted by the same receptionist that greeted me my first time and this time she says, "my, you've lost a ton of weight, haven't you?" I tell her no, she's probably thinking of someone else and she insists that she's not. I look into the mirror to see if I look too gaunt. This is the same bimbo that the last time I was there, asked me if I go by another name besides my real name and of course I replied, "Yes, Madonna"! Bimbo checks me in and I sit down to wait. About 5 minutes later, another lady calls me up there and tries to check me in, but Bimbo insists that she already did and they get into a disagreement that I suspect didn't just start. Once again I'm referred to my seat. I look around the room and try to observed the shy group that sits there, you can tell which of them are here for the stress test because they're the ones wearing sneakers, like me. No one says a word to one another and we all sit quietly, waiting to be called. I was there 30 minutes early and I still don't know why. Finally, a gay gentleman calls my name with his familiar lisp and I am greeted and told he is Adam. I'm just hoping he doesn't think I'm Eve!
I'm lead to the inner sanctum of the giant complex and told to sit while Adam starts an IV. I ask if Adam has a preference to which arm, but Adam goes both ways and I offer my right arm. He jabs me with a needle and I do my Homer Simpson impression, Dohhh... Adam doesn't laugh. He sends me to a room where there are all of the people that were called before me and there they sit with the same red elastic bandage around their arms and one sleeve rolled up. What a crew? In the corner is a water dispenser and Adam tells me to drink all I want. What was the deal with no water the morning of the test? Now I'm even pister.
I sit there drinking water and waiting for President Obama to give his speech, but remember that the water and the water pill are taking affect and I need to use a bathroom soon. I venture out to the hall and immediately find one, but it's locked. I go back to my seat and wait and pretty soon someone comes out. I go in and pee and realize the flusher won't work. I can't just leave it! I remove the top of the back of the toilet and see that the flapper is disconnected from the little chain and lift the flapper by hand. Hey, I had to wash my hands anyway. I leave the john and decide to let the next person think THEY broke it.
Very slowly, but one by one, they're calling us in to be photographed by a machine that circles you while you lay very still for 15 minutes, not even breathing deeply. I am called and get on the machine and immediately fall asleep and am awakened to a "ding". I get off the table and go back to the water room and drink some more and wait some more. Twenty or thirty minutes go by and I'm finally called and go to the testing room. I'm wired and hooked up and the fat pacer guy is called to adjust my pacemaker for some damned reason. Let the testing begin. The last time I did this, I couldn't get my heart rate up high enough, so they had to give me the old lady approach, which is an injection in your arm that simulates exercise and it makes you very dizzy. I tell this to my young tech, also gay, and he tells me that this time we'll do better, oh shit! He starts me going pretty slow and I'm watching my heart rate go from 65 beats on up to about 95, then he increases the speed and incline and I watch my heart rate go to 115 or so. I'm kept at that rate for a time then he advises me that he's about to increase me again. I hear the roar of the belt on the treadmill and there is an extreme increase of incline and now I'm practically running. My heart rate, although ready to explode, is at an amazing 135 and rising. He tells me, just a few more minutes and I'm too winded to be the smart ass that I want to be. I'm at 140 and gasping for air and my legs are aching and trying to keep up and he says, can you give me another minute? I'm trying to say, NOOOOO, but he says, you can do it and I watch my heart rate go up to 145 when a nurse comes running up from who knows where and shoots something into my IV and my arm swells up into a serum pocket. I gasp out the words, "is that normal" and she's already gone. Slowly the incline comes down and the speed is reduced and I feel like I'm going to survive this experience. With wobbly legs I walk to the corner where Adam detaches me from some 30 wires and I rest, spent and exhausted and sent back to the water room to be parked again.
With all of that water and time, I once again have to relieve myself and head to the "head". While I was doing the treadmill, someone repaired the broken chain and the john was flushing just fine, whew! After about 20 more minutes, I was again taken to the napping room for more pictures on the table where I once again fell asleep. "Ding" and I got up and got the hell out of there, a runner!
Guess what? When you're dressed and showered and shaved at 7:30 AM and you can't drink coffee or eat and you're told to get there a little early, there's not much left to do around the house, so I leave after giving Zoie toast and water that she proceeds to make into paper mashe' and smearing all over the floor and platform that she eats on, but I digress. I climb into my Expedition, that I have reactivated since gas prices have dropped temporarily and join traffic that is evidently still pretty enthusiastic about getting to what is left of their jobs.
I was told to arrive early if I could and did. I'm greeted by the same receptionist that greeted me my first time and this time she says, "my, you've lost a ton of weight, haven't you?" I tell her no, she's probably thinking of someone else and she insists that she's not. I look into the mirror to see if I look too gaunt. This is the same bimbo that the last time I was there, asked me if I go by another name besides my real name and of course I replied, "Yes, Madonna"! Bimbo checks me in and I sit down to wait. About 5 minutes later, another lady calls me up there and tries to check me in, but Bimbo insists that she already did and they get into a disagreement that I suspect didn't just start. Once again I'm referred to my seat. I look around the room and try to observed the shy group that sits there, you can tell which of them are here for the stress test because they're the ones wearing sneakers, like me. No one says a word to one another and we all sit quietly, waiting to be called. I was there 30 minutes early and I still don't know why. Finally, a gay gentleman calls my name with his familiar lisp and I am greeted and told he is Adam. I'm just hoping he doesn't think I'm Eve!
I'm lead to the inner sanctum of the giant complex and told to sit while Adam starts an IV. I ask if Adam has a preference to which arm, but Adam goes both ways and I offer my right arm. He jabs me with a needle and I do my Homer Simpson impression, Dohhh... Adam doesn't laugh. He sends me to a room where there are all of the people that were called before me and there they sit with the same red elastic bandage around their arms and one sleeve rolled up. What a crew? In the corner is a water dispenser and Adam tells me to drink all I want. What was the deal with no water the morning of the test? Now I'm even pister.
I sit there drinking water and waiting for President Obama to give his speech, but remember that the water and the water pill are taking affect and I need to use a bathroom soon. I venture out to the hall and immediately find one, but it's locked. I go back to my seat and wait and pretty soon someone comes out. I go in and pee and realize the flusher won't work. I can't just leave it! I remove the top of the back of the toilet and see that the flapper is disconnected from the little chain and lift the flapper by hand. Hey, I had to wash my hands anyway. I leave the john and decide to let the next person think THEY broke it.
Very slowly, but one by one, they're calling us in to be photographed by a machine that circles you while you lay very still for 15 minutes, not even breathing deeply. I am called and get on the machine and immediately fall asleep and am awakened to a "ding". I get off the table and go back to the water room and drink some more and wait some more. Twenty or thirty minutes go by and I'm finally called and go to the testing room. I'm wired and hooked up and the fat pacer guy is called to adjust my pacemaker for some damned reason. Let the testing begin. The last time I did this, I couldn't get my heart rate up high enough, so they had to give me the old lady approach, which is an injection in your arm that simulates exercise and it makes you very dizzy. I tell this to my young tech, also gay, and he tells me that this time we'll do better, oh shit! He starts me going pretty slow and I'm watching my heart rate go from 65 beats on up to about 95, then he increases the speed and incline and I watch my heart rate go to 115 or so. I'm kept at that rate for a time then he advises me that he's about to increase me again. I hear the roar of the belt on the treadmill and there is an extreme increase of incline and now I'm practically running. My heart rate, although ready to explode, is at an amazing 135 and rising. He tells me, just a few more minutes and I'm too winded to be the smart ass that I want to be. I'm at 140 and gasping for air and my legs are aching and trying to keep up and he says, can you give me another minute? I'm trying to say, NOOOOO, but he says, you can do it and I watch my heart rate go up to 145 when a nurse comes running up from who knows where and shoots something into my IV and my arm swells up into a serum pocket. I gasp out the words, "is that normal" and she's already gone. Slowly the incline comes down and the speed is reduced and I feel like I'm going to survive this experience. With wobbly legs I walk to the corner where Adam detaches me from some 30 wires and I rest, spent and exhausted and sent back to the water room to be parked again.
With all of that water and time, I once again have to relieve myself and head to the "head". While I was doing the treadmill, someone repaired the broken chain and the john was flushing just fine, whew! After about 20 more minutes, I was again taken to the napping room for more pictures on the table where I once again fell asleep. "Ding" and I got up and got the hell out of there, a runner!
2 comments:
I like the addition of the profanity to your blog posts. You're really coming out of your shell!
Mel, Your writing is just captivating. The way you describe the
gay lisp question...I have wondered about it myself. Good stuff.
Post a Comment