The Ultrasound

After you got over the fact that someone had complete control of your direction, the wheelchair (dare I say it) was an entertaining way to cruise through the hospital, especially as my nurses were quite fast.

I’d say there’s three levels of curiosity-provoking transport, in the long hospital hallways.

  • Level one, on foot: You get a glance
  • Level two, wheelchair: Questioning stares
  • Level three, gurney: Full on rubber necking

I was guilty of the third level, because many a gurney was rolled past me while I was waiting. But that was until I was being pushed out of recovery on one, and everyone was staring like they’d never seen a human on a bed before.

If I’d had more energy, I would have given them a fine showing of my very much functional middle finger, but fortunately I was too weak. More on that later.

Among my handful of experiences is an ultrasound. I had expected, if I ever had one, it would entail something more like a smiling technician, a joyful loved one holding my hand, a bigger belly and, of course, a baby.

Yeah. Not exactly.

I was wheeled (chair) into a room full of weird hospital props, doors I would probably never go through and some men, which alarmed me slightly because, if I’m honest, I really didn’t want a man poking me with whatever that thing is called.

After some conversation between various hospital peoples, I was helped out of the chair, given a little walker for the drip in my arm, and led into a really dark room. Creepy. My technician was a woman, not a particularly cheerful one at that.

The jelly was cold and really icky. I’ve hated sticky stuff ever since I was a kid, so it wasn’t pleasant. I also needed the loo, and she was pressing pretty damn hard on my bladder.

There was no alien baby living in there, much to my surprise, but she did find the cyst.

It took a while, and she went away for ages as well. I just lay on the bed and looked at the shapes of tye the air conditioning units on the ceiling. The air conditioning in that hospital was good, I’ll admit that.

After that she came back, put me back in my wheelchair, and then after more waiting, a guy pushed me through the mysterious aforementioned doors.

And that was my first ultrasound. It could have been my last, but it wasn’t, and I’m lucky 🙂

It gets more intense in the next installment, so brace yourselves! ^ ^

Happy June, everyone! ❤

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Queer librarian blogs mostly about books

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