After a nyquil-induced coma, I woke up this morning, raring to go get the lump in my neck sucked out. I arrived at the hospital just in time to get a nose bleed. I'm not sure what it is about my upper lip... can it NOT sense that something is dripping down it BEFORE my the blood reaches my shirt? (No. It cannot.) While I'm holding my head back in the waiting room bathroom with paper towel shoved up my left nostril, attempting to wash the blood off my chest, my name gets called to go back to the exam room. Now drenched, stained, and holding my nose, the nurse asks me, "So, Ms. Costa, are you ready for your mammogram?"
Um, excuse me? (I thought.) "Um, excuse me?" (I said.)
"You're here for your mammogram, is that correct?", says the nurse.
"No... I have a thyroid biopsy I'm getting done," I replied.
"Well, it says here you're getting a mammogram.... so....."
"I'm pretty sure I would know if I was getting a mammorgram. I mean, it's not even like it's the right part of the body, here."
"You're sure you're not getting a mammogram?"
I scanned the crowd for Ashton Kutcher's face, but I realized I wasn't getting punked. "I'm getting a biopsy. On my thyroid. No boobs. I swear."
The nurse looked at me and then realized she had the wrong person's file. Ah (lightbulb). So I'm led to the exam bed, thoroughly sanitzed from my chest to my ears, and then the nurse doused me in iodine, completely saturating my skin, hair, and even into my ears! (Easy, lady, I'm just as scared of drowning as I am of needles.) The doctor then tilted my head back till I felt like I was choking, covered my face with a blanket, and began pushing on my throat, sufficiently blocking my air supply. As if I wasn't freaked out enough, the one eye that managed to stay uncovered through this smothering event looks up in time to see the world's largest needle coming at me.
"I feel like I'm gonna throw up!", I blurted. "Just don't swallow, please. We need you to be still," said the doctor. So as I layed there, blood-stained, idiodine-drenched, suffocating, and being stabbed, I realized that there was nowhere for my gag reflux-induced saliva to go but out.... so I drooled all over my face. Defacating in my pants was really the only thing that saved this event from covering pretty much all of my nightmares that I can remember from adolescence.
When it was all over, the nurse taped up my neck, making sure to attach every loose piece of hair into the sticky mess, which was really quite sweet of her, considering I was going straight to work and already looked like I had escaped from a mental hospital... let's rip my hair out a bit too, just for kicks. I thanked the staff and was on my way. As I passed the registration desk, the receptionist asked me how everything went. "The mammogram was a success!" I said, as I smiled and walked out the door.
Um, excuse me? (I thought.) "Um, excuse me?" (I said.)
"You're here for your mammogram, is that correct?", says the nurse.
"No... I have a thyroid biopsy I'm getting done," I replied.
"Well, it says here you're getting a mammogram.... so....."
"I'm pretty sure I would know if I was getting a mammorgram. I mean, it's not even like it's the right part of the body, here."
"You're sure you're not getting a mammogram?"
I scanned the crowd for Ashton Kutcher's face, but I realized I wasn't getting punked. "I'm getting a biopsy. On my thyroid. No boobs. I swear."
The nurse looked at me and then realized she had the wrong person's file. Ah (lightbulb). So I'm led to the exam bed, thoroughly sanitzed from my chest to my ears, and then the nurse doused me in iodine, completely saturating my skin, hair, and even into my ears! (Easy, lady, I'm just as scared of drowning as I am of needles.) The doctor then tilted my head back till I felt like I was choking, covered my face with a blanket, and began pushing on my throat, sufficiently blocking my air supply. As if I wasn't freaked out enough, the one eye that managed to stay uncovered through this smothering event looks up in time to see the world's largest needle coming at me.
"I feel like I'm gonna throw up!", I blurted. "Just don't swallow, please. We need you to be still," said the doctor. So as I layed there, blood-stained, idiodine-drenched, suffocating, and being stabbed, I realized that there was nowhere for my gag reflux-induced saliva to go but out.... so I drooled all over my face. Defacating in my pants was really the only thing that saved this event from covering pretty much all of my nightmares that I can remember from adolescence.
When it was all over, the nurse taped up my neck, making sure to attach every loose piece of hair into the sticky mess, which was really quite sweet of her, considering I was going straight to work and already looked like I had escaped from a mental hospital... let's rip my hair out a bit too, just for kicks. I thanked the staff and was on my way. As I passed the registration desk, the receptionist asked me how everything went. "The mammogram was a success!" I said, as I smiled and walked out the door.
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