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Transvaginal Ultrasound

In case I haven’t made it crystal I don’t have one and of the other I’ve had more than enough.

The thing about Ultrasound is that they smear you up with K-Y Jelly and send you back home sticky and icky. I much prefer MRIs (where the receptionist and I chat about our SAD, she has a smoker’s cough as many health care professionals do which indicates the beginning of COPD). Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold your breath, breath normally.

Now we do it again with contrast.

I’m not claustrophobic and I close my eyes. I’ve been stuck enough that I only notice when they’ve done a bad job (last time they had to do it twice and mop the floor, more a problem for them than me). If I didn’t have to follow directions I could take a nap (best to get it done first thing, that way you don’t have to wait).

At the end, as a party favor, you get to keep your non-slip socks which are handy if you have cats that don’t like shoes.

Actually, being a dick is an impeachable offense. As no less a luminary than Gerald R. Ford pointed out, impeachment is whatever Congress says it is.

Good luck getting a majority in the House and 2 thirds of the Senate.

1 comment

  1. ek hornbeck

    Vent Hole

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