While we were at Trout Lodge, something crazy happened that led me to call my doctor once again for the Mystery Abdominal Thing. Long story short? We scheduled a CT scan!
Lady at Scheduling: Your test will be on Thursday at 3:30, but we’ll need you to be here at 2:30 for registration. AND, you’ll need to stop eating and drinking at 11:30 so we can get an accurate result.
Me: Okay and okay!
So, last Thursday morning I stopped eating at 11:00 (Can you guess how many microwave s’mores I ate between 10:50 and 11:00? The answer is Three!), and I parked the Hyundai at 2:22. (I remember the time because I tend to make a wish when I look at the clock and it’s 11:11 or 2:22 or 4:44 or something similar. I’m four years old!)
Registration Lady: Go ahead and fill out these forms, and one of the nurses will bring you something to drink in just a minute.
Me: Excellent! I hope it’s root beer. (Did I mention that I’m four years old?)
This is starting to get boring, so take a deep breath and Here We Go!
It was not root beer. It was two gigantic cups of a barium cocktail that tasted like orange coconut poison and while I was drinking it, they called me back to start an IV, and I had no idea THAT was part of the deal, but I’m pretty flexible so whatever, and they started the IV in the crook of my right arm and I gulped the poison, and thirty minutes later they put me on the table and I had to scootch my skirt down to my knees because of the zipper, and when the nurse went to put the stuff into my IV, the IV didn’t work correctly and the stuff infiltrated and BURNING ARM! SO they went to start an IV in my left arm crook (I’m loving using the word crook, by the way), and my veins were rolling too much and YEESH! PAIN! They tried the top of my left forearm instead and still with the rolling and double the pain (maybe even triple) and YEEOWWW! So they called a nurse in from the main hospital who jabbed me on my right forearm (My skirt was still around my knees! Were you wondering about that?) and it worked, but as I was pumping my hand to give her some hefty vein action, my original IV site started secretly spurting and suddenly there was a fat puddle of blood all over my arm, and holy crap. Wooooozzzzzzzyyyyyyyy!
Nurse (pushing the stuff into my IV): I’m pushing this through, and you might feel a warm sensation that sort of feels like you’re peeing in your pants, but don’t worry. You’re not peeing.
Me: I think I’m peeing.
Nurse: You’re not peeing.
Me: This has been an incredible day.
Less than two minutes later, the entire procedure was finished. AND, I can’t really complain because The Pokers were all really nice people, and I suppose I can simply blame my ancestors for my weirdo veins, right? Right-o!
So, anyway. A few of you have e-mailed to ask if I’ve had my gallbladder removed yet. I have not! Because, according to the tests, Governor Gallbladder is an upstanding member of the Angela Pudding Abdominal Organ Population.
Side story: When all of this abdominal stuff started up, I said something to Jeff like, “You know, watch this be a really embarrassing diagnosis that involves one of the following terms: rectum, anus, stool, sphincter, fissures, or yucky vagina.”
When the doctor called with my CT scan results, he actually used one of those terms coupled with the word “abnormal.” (It was not Abnormal Yucky Vagina.)
So, yeah. Here we are. It’s nothing serious, so please don’t bother to wish me well. Just know that I’ll be seeing a gastroenterologist a week from Friday! AND, according to my research, he’s also a pianist!