Chirky

Last week I was sitting at work, entertaining myself by drawing on my abdomen with a Sharpie. I wanted to know exactly where my pelvis was ripping apart, in case it wasn't obvious by my sudden gasps and hands flinging to clutch my abdomen.

The stabbing pain propelled me to the doctor, where I sat with visions of my ovaries exploding, my appendix rupturing, and an assortment of Swiss Army blades in my fallopian tubes that were trying to push through the surface of my skin.

My doctor pressed on me, asked me about the pain, and then sent me for lab work. I bravely watched the nurse push a needle into my vein and nearly vomited. It was gross to watch it go into my skin, and even more disgusting when my blood began spewing like a leaky pipe everywhere into the vial. It's nearly a week later and my arm still hurts when I fully extend it.

After pressing a cotton ball to my inner elbow bendy part (what is that part of my arm called?), I hopped off the stool and aimed for the restroom, cup in hand. I collected my urine sample and, as I was holding the cup while trying to finish my business, the thought crossed my mind: "I'll be damned if I spill this cup all over my clothes."

Has anyone ever done that? What do you do? Wear your soggy, urine-infested slacks back into the waiting room? With the urine-covered cloth clinging to your legs? Ask for a hospital gown while your pants are still around your ankles? Just walk out of the restroom in your underwear?

I put a death grip on the cup – why did it not occur to me just to set it on the ground? – and managed not to dump it over. Instead, I dropped the toilet paper, which rolled about six feet away (it was a big bathroom), leaving a trail of paper behind it. I stared at it (a) revolted by the thought of using the toilet paper that had touched the ground (germs! everywhere!) and (b) uncertain what to do because I needed that toilet paper for obvious reasons.

Figuring the day was headed south anyway, I gave in and finally just sat down on the toilet seat. I had been hovering, protecting my precious bottom from the possible diseases lurking in the porcelain bowl. My thighs were burning from the squat position I had been holding - do you know how much water I had to drink in a two hour window? - and at the time contracting herpes from the bathroom seemed a more attractive option than putting my legs through more fiery pain. (Note to self: need to begin exercising.)

I kept trying to pull the roll toward me, but regardless of whether I gently pulled the paper or gave it a sound yank, the roll didn't come toward me. It just unrolled MORE. And this is the part where I'll tell you a secret, a secret that I loathe admitting: I used the toilet paper that was on the ground. AAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. I know, okay? I KNOW. But at least I used the part that was facing UP.

::Hides face in shame::

I also had two sonograms, which perhaps was the catalyst to me realizing how empty my life is. Because this woman could see inside my body. She could see things I'd never seen before. She could see the very innerworkings of LIFE. She could see how many organs were positioned and knew how each worked together to make my body function.

To better see the screen, I covertly positioned myself further down on the table than I should have been. It was mostly evident because my legs, rather than resting on the 6' long bed, were dangling off the edge. As the nurse kneaded my pelvic and abdominal area with the wand, I watched as my organs flew across the screen. My pancreas! My spleen! My kidneys! My ovaries! My big, black masses of gas, blocking her view!

Today I heard back from my doctor. It seems that the problem wasn't so much my exploding ovaries or knives housed within my fallopian tubes. Rather, it's just that I need to lose weight because my body can't keep up with the fat that I'm producing on a daily (hourly?) basis.

Okay, that's not really the doctor's diagnosis - that is just my own. His version went something like this: "Your kidneys and liver looks fine. Your ovaries and uterus are perfect. You have no gall stones. Everything looks great - I'm not sure why you were having those pains. Are you still having them?"

"No, they've kind of subsided."

"Then it may have been a cyst bursting or a spasm. You know, sometimes when you have spasms in your colon it can be a little painful, but difficult to see on the sonogram."

When I hung up I wondered whether the government was listening to my doctor talk to me about my colon spasming, and I became a little embarrassed, because what if the CIA points their satellites toward me and agents gather to hover around a 65" LCD and laugh at the girl with the possibly spasming colon?