Saturday, September 24, 2005

The Ultrasound

This morning I drove to a clinic to get an ultrasound.

The humourless ultrasoundist ultrasounded my ultrasoundable kidney and abdomen. She didn't look upset or anxious during the time she made me breathe oddly and squirm under the wand, as I felt the gel slurp on my stomach. After a while, I asked her if she'd found anything.

She looked at me and took a breath. She paused - and then said: "No."

Then she told me to wipe myself off with a huge tissue and get dressed. And left the examination room.

The ultrasound screen was still on, so I tried to see inside my throat, then inside my hand, then inside my chest, then inside my skull. I couldn't really make much out. Then I wiped myself off, as instructed.

Fine, stupid ultrasoundist. I don't want to know about my kidney stone. In fact, I hope your stupid ultrasound machine breaks - and catches on fire. That'll give you a reaction.

Wipe yourself, stupid ultrasoundist.

Phew. That feels better. But my kidney stone is still twinging.

"Cringing, Mungo felt the twinging".

That is all.