I’m not a big pain guy. (More Woody Allen than John Wayne.) Take needles, for example. From an analytical standpoint, brilliant. Personally, don’t like ’em.
Still, they serve a purpose.
Some background: I’m in the hospital for tests. The big one was this morning. Odd, it. They pumped a magic potion into my right arm that (I was told) would simulate a 2-mile run. Never having made a run of that distance, I took their word for it.
The shot induced in me a general wooziness and all-over tingling that, while not entirely unpleasant, is not something I’d choose to experience again.
I passed that chemical stress test just fine (“Yippee!”) and then went to the heart sonogram evaluation — with goopy cold stuff spread on my chest by an able technician using a mouse-like object.
That went well.
Third test was a biggie — flat on my back for 12 minutes, arms behind my head, under a huge, angular, Star Trek-like device. (“Beam me up, Scottie.”)
No word yet on that outcome; however, one thing is clear: I’m entering a new chapter of my life, where health, and not Twinkies, will rule. It should interesting — or, at the very least, different … in that good way.
From my iPhone.
PART 1:
PART 3:
PART 4:
