Take one large screen tv, add some gel, a little ultrasound thinga majickey, an overtired, borderline desperate Lyme patient...there is a recipe for disaster. I'm not too catastrophic about medical tests (more que sera sera), but, with every click of the computer keyboard today, I became more and more worried.
"What's that giant hole?" I think, looking at the 3-foot monitor.
When you've experienced enough testing, you learn: They only click to a) measure the size of an organ or b) capture an abnormal finding.
For 20+ plus minutes, we go through the routine.
Click. Pause. Click. Press. Click. Click. Click.
"Take a breath. Hold it."
Again and again and again and again.
"This is it. I'm dying. My body is trashed. Stupid Ivermectin."
Sixteen months of worry flood my brain...
What to tell Angel....
Thoughts of being rushed to the hospital...
How to finance a liver transplant...
How I'd rather be dead than suffer...
By the end, I am positive: major stuff is going on in my organs.
Vickie (the Sonographer) has other ideas.
"Looks the same as it did last time." (ie: polyp in my gall bladder, cyst in my liver)
"Really? By the way you were clicking, I thought I was dying."
I'm so ridiculous.