Dying Of Embarrassment

You might be wondering what ever became of my heart palpitations and such. Yes, well, I'm not anemic and my sodium and potassium are as they should be. My thyroid levels are, however, terrible. I have Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. One of my levels should be <35>1,000. Impressive, huh? That means for lack of a better way to explain it, my thyroid gland is eating itself. Yeah, it's cool and horrifying all at once, isn't it? The Doctor restarted my medication at a very low dose and will titrate upwards according to lab results every 10-12 weeks. The thyroiditits is most likely the palpitation culprit. She also ordered an ECHO of my heart. It's an ultrasound to check my murmur and make sure my mitral valve hasn't prolapsed.

The guy at the imaging center called me around 9am on Thursday and asked if I could move up my appointment from 3pm to 10:15am. He had a nice voice and I instantly wanted him to be happy. So I ducked out of work for my test. I arrived and was promptly shown back to the table. The guy was nice and attractive. He wasn't too hairy. I liked him...until he handed me a gown and told me to remove my bra and top and leave my gown opened at the front. I guess I didn't realize I'd have to bare The Girls. Uterine ultrasounds are fun! This already didn't seem fun. I put on the damn gown and it was obvious Paris Hilton left it there earlier. I didn't know gowns came in triple extra zero. It looked a mess. I couldn't stop thinking about Anna Nicole Smith during the height of her unfortunate weight gain. I wanted to be drunk or dead, just like her. I looked in the drawer for a size 16 but I was wearing the last one and I knew I was doomed. Then he knocked so I jumped up on the table. He came in and I tried really hard not to think about my muffin top. He asked me to lie back and I did. Then he asked me to turn all the way onto my left side and face him, propped up on my arm Burt Reynolds Bear Rug style. That's when I really went a little bit crazy inside my head. You've seen a photo of a BBW reclining on her side in some manner of undress, right? The Girls were free, the muffin top was more muffiny and I tried to retreat inside my head. He put jelly on me and attached an electrode to the top of my muffin, he put more electrodes on The Girls even though they tried to swing away from him with all their might. I prayed for Anna Nicole to show me the way.

He was sitting in a chair immediately in front of me and he was a talker. He talked and talked and talked but I couldn't concentrate on anything but the woman screaming in horror inside my skull. He also attempted many, many times to make eye contact. I think he wanted to make me more comfortable but that was impossible. He finished with the first half of the test and asked me to lean back "ever so slightly then arch your back a little for me" and that's when he went beneath my left breast with the transducer. He jiggled it a couple of times before he found the spot. When he seemed satisfied with the placement, I realized my boob was sitting right on top of his not-too-hairy hand. And then suddenly, he was handing me tissues for the jelly removal and it was over. I tried to hang around inside the room after he walked out. I hoped to avoid any more contact but when I peeked around the door, there he stood. Smiling, nodding and shaking my hand, he told me he didn't see anything of alarm during the ECHO and it was "nothing to worry about."

I called Joe when I was in the van on the way back to work. I told him I didn't think I was dying from mitral valve prolapse but that I was dying of embarrassment. I recounted the events and he replied, "Well, there's nothing like getting naked in front of a stranger to help you get your priorities in order." I could've kicked him for that! But then he said, "I love your boobs, babe." After he said that, I couldn't hate him, or that poor guy in the dimly lit imaging room, anymore.

I'm going to take this as a personal message from Anna Nicole. I think she's trying to tell me it's better to be healthy than thin but I won't become either of those by feeling sorry for myself.