Today I had a most odd experience. My first Ultra Sound.
Flash back to last week. It had been few days since my first Physical, in years. I remember sitting in my doctor's office (yes, in the actual office - see What's Up Doc?) waiting to hear the results of my tests.
It was kind of awkward, really. While I sat in my chair watching the doctor mull over the data, we engaged in this strange little see-saw game.
When he had finished reading, he sat back and I leaned forward to hear what conclusion had been made. After a few moments, having said nothing, my doctor leaned forward to re-read the results. So, since he obviously wasn't ready to talk, I leaned back to a comfortable position.
The pattern continued over the next few minutes. He'd lean in. I'd lean back. He'd lean in. I'd lean back. When he finally spoke, I was nursing a strained abdominal muscle.
Finally, after analyzing the numbers or figuring out his handwriting, he mentioned that there was good news and bad news. He then proceeded to ask me which one I would rather hear first. I said the bad news. He wanted to tell me the good news.
Why ask?! Why do you ask if you already know which one you're going to tell? I hate that.
Anyways, the good news was that the blood test revealed that my haemoglobin was at a healthy level. Of course, telling me that, revealed that I had no idea what haemoglobin was.
The bad news was in regards to my urine sample. They had found traces of…
Now, as soon as I heard the words "found traces”, my heart sank. Before the doctor could utter another word I just started bawling. I was so ashamed.
But, it's not like he didn't know. After all, you don't get a body like mine without dipping into the steroid pot a few times.
I just started confessing. I told him about the time my seven-year old son beat me in Mini-Putt. I told him how humiliating it was. And I told him how I knew steroids were wrong...but I was just trying to look for an edge.
After my dramatic presentation, the doctor asked me how my comedy career was coming along and then recommended that I get an abdominal ultra sound taken.
An abdominal ultra sound!? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
I was confused, scared and excited and I haven’t, simultaneously, felt those three emotions since my honeymoon.
So, I called my wife right away. “Heidi, you’re never going to believe this! The doctor thinks I may be pregnant!”
It must have been a bad connection, because I’m sure she wouldn’t have purposely hung up on me.
Well, today was the day.
I arrived at the clinic, with an empty stomach and giddier than a school girl with tickets to see the Jonas Brothers.
The “Technician” (they don’t like to be called “Ultra Sound Chicks”), invited me into this room that was about the size of my refrigerator…and just as cold.
After some small talk about Sarah Palin’s interview with Oprah, I was told to lift up my shirt.
No worries there. I had come prepared. I quickly took off my coat to reveal that I was wearing a belly top.
Strangely, I couldn’t tell if she was impressed with my forethought or slightly horrified.
I then lied down on the bench which was covered by a strip of paper towel. The “Technician” squeezed this clear goo onto my stomach, and then moved an ice cold metal prod all over my mid-section.
I asked, more than once, if she could tell whether I was having a boy or a girl. But, she must have been very focused on the task at hand, because she never did answer me.
Looks like I’ll have to wait until next Monday for the results...I’m guessing boy.
When I left the Ultra Sound room, I told Heidi that I badly needed a shower. Shocked, she asked, “Didn’t you wipe the goo off?” To which I replied, “Don’t you remember I have a hairy stomach?”
I don't know what's more difficult...
Me wiping that goo off or you getting that image out of your mind.
Have a good one,