Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Boobies!

Did you see what Dustin Penner did earlier tonight? Holy cats! Just...wow! That was a thing of beauty. Okay, I'll settle down now.

So. Boobies. Okay. Let's get back to task here.

Earlier this week, I had to get a 2D echocardiogram. I asked a number of people what it was like and Stanley, Terry, Kevin, Howard and Dave all said some variation of "It's nothing. They smear some goo on your chest and then run a wand over it." I have two words for all of them: "Ouch!" and "Ouch!" One for each breast. But you know? This oversight might not be completely their fault. Let's take a look at that list again, shall we? Stanley, Terry, Kevin, Howard and Dave... What do all of these people have in common other than knowing me? None of them have boobs. None of them. Have. Boobs. Okay, maybe a couple of them have moobs (man boobs) but none of them have what Fergie once called "lovely lady lumps".

If any of those guys had boobs they certainly would have been sympathetic to my not being happy about my tech seeming to feel that my boobs' tendency to get in her way somehow behooved her to try to push them around to my shoulder blades. She also tried to push the little marital aid-looking thing up under my sternum. People just don't bend that way! Okay maybe other people bend that way and I'm a freak. I don't know, but it hurt. Seriously, I was very sore for three days.

To her credit, the tech did attempt to keep me engaged. At one point while she was trying to grind my ribcage into powder, she pointed to the screen and said, "Look! There's your heart!" On the screen was a murky, twitching thing that made a "shploosh-shoo" noise. I smiled and said "hmmm". In my head I was screaming, "No! Ack! Getitout! Getitout! Getitout!" Now, here's the thing, there was no reason for me to be so squicked out by my own heart. I know it's there. I've got a degree in anthropology. In order to get this degree, I had to take A&P, handle human remains and observe an autopsy. I managed to do all of these things without a problem. However, none of them entailed seeing my own internal organs at work. When I saw my heart, it was all I could do not to beg the tech to see if Sigourney Weaver was in the lobby and if she would come hold my hand in case that thing tried to burst out of my chest.

As of this writing, I'm still waiting for the results. This might be a good thing. I am also being very nice to my boobs by giving them an exam. For those of you who haven't gotten the word yet, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. You can get more information here. You owe it to yourself and the people who love you to take five minutes this month (an every other month) to make sure your boobies are okay!

Peace,
Jas


copyright 2008 jas faulkner