I had an abdominal ultrasound this morning at 10:30 to see if there are aliens or fairies in my belly causing the weirdness of last week. In advance of this ultrasound I could eat no fat for 24 hours before the test. Fat causes the gall bladder to contract and the ultrasound needs to see the gall bladder even though I think it’s an ulcer. The fat fast was challenging, in that I eat quite a bit of fat in a day. Cheese, milk, chips, sure. But I cook with olive oil. I put peanut butter on my toast. I put butter on my popcorn. Last night I tried sprinkling water on my popcorn, to get the seasonings to stick. It kind of worked,.
But then. Then, I had to fast for the 12 hours before the test. Fast. As in, eat nothing. No food after 10:30 pm until after the test at 10:30 am.
Most of you are probably reading this saying, yeah, get over it. At 10:30 at night you’re asleep anyway. So you have 4 hours in the morning where you can’t eat anything. Big deal.
It was a big deal! I was so hungry. I have not gone that long without food in a long time. If it had been just me at home, I would have been OK. But the children! They were well rested and well fed and they were buzzing around me, asking me questions I couldn’t answer and climbing my leg and I just wanted to swat at them like flies and make them go read something quietly, in the corner, stop talking, just stop.
Seriously. Trombone asked me where babies come from. Today. I was all, oh, aliens, fairies, who knows, mama is weak right now. Ask me tomorrow when I’ve had a goddamn piece of toast.
My mother arrived to look after them so I could go have the test and I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. OK. Here I go, about to take a 5 minute drive uptown because I am too weak to walk (actually there wasn’t enough time at that point) up the hill. See you later guys. Oh. Where are my keys? Where are my – oh damn.
Fresco loves my keys.
He likes to hold them while I push him around in the buggy. He likes to walk around the house with them and try to insert them into things. The last time I saw my keys was yesterday afternoon, in the house, clutched in his sweaty fist.
After 10 minutes frantically upending all of our baskets of toys I borrowed my mother’s car.
I parked on an unfamiliar street, thinking I was right near the office, then realized I was still two blocks from my destination. Too bad I just put 96 minutes ($2 in case you’re interested) in the meter. I broke into a crippled sort of jog through the parking lot because I was now almost late for my appointment and they were probably going to cancel it and charge me $50 and then I’d have to starve myself on a different day and NO WAY is that happening. Run faster, maggot.
The ultrasound clinic was typical for the Mizzle. Everything in the Mizzle feels kind of like an older-by-20-years version of Vancouver. All my previous ultrasounds – for pregnancy – have been at the big clinic in Vancouver or at the hospital. I am glad for this, for the outgoing, sympathetic, gentle ultrasound technicians who showed me my babies for the first time.
This clinic is in the basement of the building. Things were painted a kind of faded mauve. The technicians all had the manner of drill sergeants. One came in to fetch someone from the waiting room and barked, “OK, you come with me now,” so harshly that I thought perhaps I was in a police office by accident? My technician was nice enough. All she said was, “Take a deep breath and hold it,” approximately 35 times while she dug into my poor, empty abdomen and then, “OK now relax,” while she went for more jelly goop to pour on my skin.
Incidentally I can still smell the ultrasound jelly and it is weirding me out. It reminds me of pregnancy.
In 15 minutes it was done and I was told to wipe myself off and get dressed and get out.
(Maybe it’s a brothel after hours? Dunno.)(Groannnn)
I went to get some groceries at the vegetable market, thus managing to come within a doorstop of the Dairy Queen without going in for 8 cheeseburgers. Instead I bought fruit and vegetables and a big bag of rice crackers. Then I went next door to the bakery and bought a loaf of potato onion bread. Then I came home, where my mother had been frantically searching for my keys and simultaneously trying to organize the toys and also entertaining the children by putting things places so they could take them out of those places and put them other places. What fun!
I found them. The keys. They were under the stove the whole time. They are no longer Fresco’s toy and you may say “I told you so,” if you want.
I ate half the bag of rice crackers, three huge hunks of bread and made myself some coffee. Putting away the groceries I was surprised to find a box containing four lemon tarts. When I had been fantasizing all morning about what delicious foods I would cram into my mouth as soon as I was able, lemon tarts did not even make the top 50. Yet, there I was, four lemon tarts the richer. I sort of remember buying them. But after I had put some food in my belly, they no longer held the same appeal as they had in the bakery.
When they tell you not to shop hungry, they mean it. Lizard brain totally took over.
Results of the tests in three business days to my doctor, who will hopefully be able to read and interpret them. If not, I’ll tuck them under my arm and run like a rugby player to my new doctor who doesn’t know he’s my new doctor yet but will real soon.
PS: The lemon tarts will not be wasted, don’t you fret.