A Rough Few Weeks
21 April 2011 at 9:16 am
When I was told I needed an ultrasound, I was expecting some lube on my belly and a few minutes with a device rubbing on top of my uber intimates. I was told to arrive with a full bladder.
I was not told that after they took fifty pictures of my innerds, I would need to empty my bladder so that they could stick a wand up my hoo-ha and take fifty more pictures.
That was awkward. Especially since I had to initiate the robotic rape myself, basically masturbating for the ultrasound tech.
I used to like going to the doctor - I would languish in the attention, and it was usually good news: yay, you don't have leukemia! Yay, you didn't sever an artery! Yay, no cavities!
But then I went a few years without health insurance, found ways to cure myself, and learned to loathe the mainstream medical industry, with the waiting and the denied claims and the hallway mazes and the conveyor belt mentality and the healing the symptoms and not dealing with the problem and the general ineffectiveness.
And then, there was pain.
Now I'm taking three pills a day to combat the Ordeal that I'll be orDealing with for the rest of my life.
I've spent many of the past weeks crying, but it's really not that big of a deal.
(Except it is.)
(Except it isn't.)
Anyway. It's been a rough few weeks.
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Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.