2004-11-12

Bonnie!!

* * * In case you hadn’t heard, Fred’s gone country. I like to think I had a little to do with that, since every time I’m flipping channels or want to sit in the living room and read, I turn the channel to VH-1 Country or CMT or TNN and listen to the videos while I’m reading. (Though more often than not, I end up sitting on the couch staring at the TV with my book in my lap because a video I like or haven’t seen before comes on) Not only does he like Toby Keith, he likes some Tim McGraw as well. Every now and then he’ll mention a country song that he heard on the radio (because now he listens to country music!) that he likes (Suds in the Bucket by Sara Evans, for one). I asked him several times if he’d heard American Soldier by Toby Keith yet, and I’d say (not sing, because I love him too much to subject him to my singing voice. Well, no I don’t – I don’t sing the song because I can’t remember the entire chorus, so I just say it rather than singing it) the part I can remember – I don’t want to die for you/ but if dyin’s asked of me/ I’ll bear that cross with honor/ ’cause freedom don’t come free – and every time he shrugged and said it didn’t sound familiar. So last night we were each sitting in front of our computers, and I was looking at Toby Keith’s website and I found the video for American Soldier, and I thought to myself “Aha! I can play the video for Fred so that he can finally hear the song!” So I said “Baby, listen to this!” and I played the video. I sat and watched the video and got all teary-eyed because I AM A BIG DORKY SAP. If you don’t know the song, toward the end Toby Keith sings “I’m an American soldier, an American” roughly 68.93 times, and when the video was over, Fred shifted around in his chair and coughed. “Was that American Soldier?” he finally asked. Yes, it’s true. NOTHING gets by him. NOTHING. * * * So, the trip to the Heart Clinic in downtown Huntsville yesterday afternoon went just fine. We were a little confused when we first walked in, because there were no signs telling us where to go, and so Fred walked over to the desk where a woman was sitting, and he said “Can you tell me where to go for outpatient testing?” and she looked at him as though perhaps he was speaking in a foreign language, and she repeated, slowly, “Outpatient… testing?” She seemed a little confused. “An echocardiogram and Holter monitor,” I said. “Oh!” she said, and then directed us to the second floor. When we got to the second floor, I walked to the sign that said “SIGN IN HERE” and Fred went to sit down. I looked at the only clipboard by the sign, and it said in big bold letters across the top “PACEMAKER TESTING”, and I thought to myself “Well, I have no pacemaker and don’t need one tested. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” I waited until a woman sitting behind the counter glanced at me, and politely said “I have an appointment for an echo -” “Sign in right there,” she said, pointing at the “PACEMAKER TESTING” clipboard, with an air of “Oh lord, how many times a day am I going to be required to repeat the same goddamn thing to the same stupid-ass people?” I meekly signed in and went to sit by Fred, who had chosen a seat as far from the sign-in desk as possible. We had a discussion as to whether Fred would accompany me back for the echocardiogram – first he said he’d rather wait in the waiting room, then I said I’d rather he come back with me, then he went to the men’s room, and then when he came back I told him it was okay with me if he waited in the waiting room but that we needed to move because we were sitting right next to some loud-ass drug reps and I wasn’t going to hear if they called my name, so we moved, and a few minutes later Fred said he’d rather come back with me (I don’t remember why) and then the lady behind the counter called me over so I could answer all the questions they always ask – name/ address/ phone number/ doctor/ next of kin questions, all that shit. At one point she looked down at my insurance card and realized that it was one of the new ones that didn’t have Fred’s social security number on it (Blu3 Cross recently sent out new cards in hopes of cutting down on identity theft) and she looked at him and said “Do you know your social security number?” I know my face immediately went blank, because I was fighting the urge to laugh out loud. “Yes,” Fred said. “Yes, I do.” And he recited his social security number for her, clearly also fighting the urge not to laugh. “And is your social security number 00X-?” she asked me, looking at her computer screen. “Yes,” I said. “You must be young!” she said. “I’ve never seen one that started with 00X!” Beside me, Fred snickered. I just smiled at her, wondering how on earth a social security number starting with those numbers meant I must be young. Once we’d finished answering all the questions and I signed in 16 different spaces, we went back out into the waiting room to sit down and wait for my name to be called again. As we waited, I eyed the drug reps and wondered aloud whether I should go over and ask for some pens. Because you really can’t have too many Bic Clic pens, y’know. After, I don’t know, ten minutes or so a woman came out and called my name and we followed her back to another waiting room, where we had to sit and wait some more. “It seems cruel to call us back just to make us wait more,” Fred observed and I concurred. We passed fifteen minutes or so watching an episode of Star Trek (it was the one where Captain Kirk ran around without a shirt on, and kicked some alien ass…) and then they called me back for the ECG. I had to strip down from the waist up and put a johnny on, then lay on my left side on the table. The gel was warm, at least, and laying on my side (without a pillow) was a little uncomfortable, but it only took about 15 minutes for the entire echocardiogram. It wasn’t too bad, though I thought at one point she might crack one of my ribs. It also wasn’t that uncomfortable having her flop my boob around – I was just relieved to have it done by a strange woman rather than a strange man. The… echocardiogram-ist (?) was great, always telling me what we were looking at. It was, to say the least, freaky as hell to be looking at a picture of my heart. Because to be honest I prefer to think that I don’t actually have organs or anything – that there’s skin, then blood, then I’m solid all the way through with a few bones and veins and capillaries thrown in for good measure. (By the way, Fred can now officially confirm that I have a heart; he was there for the ECG and saw it himself!) We were directed back to the waiting room again to wait for the person who was going to be putting the Holter monitor on me; we only had to wait a few minutes, then she took me to a room, gave me a couple of sheets of instructions (I have to return the monitor this afternoon; if I haven’t returned it within two weeks then they’ll bill me for $2500), then she told me to pull my shirt up, and she slapped five pads on me, two on my upper chest and three across my abdomen, like so: She attached wires to each pad, then gave me the recorder and told me it was okay to put it in my pocket; I did so, and then we were on our way home. Altogether, we were at the Heart Center for about an hour and a half, most of that spent sitting and waiting. Could have been worse, I suppose – at least I had Fred there to keep me entertained. The monitor isn’t too bad; mostly it’s just annoying, and I keep worrying that it’s come disconnected, so every few minutes I press on each of the pads to make sure everything’s as it should be. I usually sleep naked, but last night I wore my bra to bed so I’d have something to clip the recorder to. I have to keep a sheet of paper and pencil nearby so that I can record each and every flutter, and that’s really exciting: “Time: 11:03 pm. Activity: Reading. Symptom: Fluttering in chest.” Thus far, I’ve had fluttering at 4:12, 4:31, 5:49, 6:27, 6:36, 7:28, 9:13, 11:03, 7:32, and 9:54, all while doing exciting activities such as “sitting in front of computer”, “watching TV”, “reading”, and “brushing teeth.” Sleeping while wearing the monitor wasn’t too bad, though at one point the monitor fell off my bra, where it was clipped, and fell onto my hand, jolting me awake. I couldn’t sleep on my stomach, which is how I usually spend a good part of each night, so my right shoulder was a little stiff this morning, but all in all I have no real complaints. I’ll be glad to be able to disconnect the monitor this afternoon, though, so I can take a shower. I feel all greasy and nasty, even though I’m sure I’m not stinky yet. Least, I hope I’m not! * * * Meester Boogers sits quietly, whilst the Daddy dangles a wooden snake over his head. Meester Boogers, fed up with the wooden snake, attacks. * * *]]>