Getting an EKG is not the sexiest of test.
First, they need you to expose your ankles so they can place little stickers on them. That doesn’t sound so bad, except if you’re a female living in Ohio, you stopped shaving back in September. My nurse kept asking me to remove my socks so I can only assume she grew up some place warm.
Next, they open your gown so they can stick stickers on your muffin top and around your breast. Oh, and here’s a first…she actually lifted my boob so she could put a sticker under there. It felt fine…until a full sized Cheez-It came tumbling out. Then, yeah, it got a little weird.
After the humiliating placing-of-the-stickers, they stick wires to all those stickers and say, “Okay, no moving. No talking.” Then the nurse plays on the computer for a second, and that’s it. She turns off the computer and removes the wires, and tells you the results should be back in 45 minutes.
A little bit later you have to give a urine sample and then they pump you full of some drug that makes you feel all loopy and sleepy. Right as your about to fall asleep, the doctor comes in and asks about your pain.
“Pain? You’re wavy. Pretty dandy girl. High five.”
He tells your husband, “Wow. She’s a lightweight, huh?” Then he says he thinks you’re fine. Maybe that unrelenting sharp pain inside your heart was just stress. Maybe the reason your arm has been tingling all day is due to some sort of muscular hoopty hoo. Maybe you’ll die on the way home. They don’t really know. They just know your EKG came out fine and you need to go.
So I’m home. I’m sleepy. My arms tingling. I feel a little embarrassed. And I have quarter-sized stickers all over my body. I guess it could be worse. I could have an actual heart problem.
Thank God for little miracles.