A sonographer shoved his transducer into the soft, tender tissue of my neck this morning. I couldn't see his face because my head was turned and my eyes were pinched closed in discomfort, but I'm pretty sure the bastard was grinning. He was smiling as he tried to find out if the fat in my neck could be permanently bunched up beneath my lower jaw.
When he did the other side, not only did he try the same experiment, but my face was close to being buried in his armpit. I think he was wearing Axe deodorant this morning. I was grateful for that. I was also grateful for the fact that my pain would now have some symmetry. There would be no need to favor one side of my neck over the other. They would both feel like hamburger.
I noticed sonographer guy had kanji or some Chinese character tattooed on his arm. He also had a band aid on his neck. I'm guessing that was covering some other bit of ink he had. Probably something he picked up in prison. I'm sure his ultrasound technique was another thing he acquired during that period in his life.
Truth is it wasn't all that painful. But I heard other people who were being screened today make the same complaint about our ex-con sonographer so I know I'm not just being a big baby. But none of us dared to complain in front of the sadistic sonographer. In fact, we were all extremely polite. We wanted him to do a good job and find the plaque in our carotid arteries so we could all go back to Ruth's Chris for another butter seared fillet. Of course the reality is the asshole probably dislodged whatever plaque was in there and in a moment or two my right side will go numb.
Sort of sounds like me and the airlines. Too chicken to bitch. Too afriad someone is going to spit in my food or hand me a granola bar without a smile. Too scared that I'll hurt someone's feelings.
I'll get the results in three weeks. If it's bad news I'll be torn about hunting down my sonographer and shoving a transducer up his ass. However, just because I'm a little coflicted doesn't mean I won't do it.