So...Ultrasounds

Hey there kids!


Yeah, yeah...you haven't posted in a while, blah blah blah... I get it. I understand. I'm lazy.


But have I ever talked to you about ultrasounds? I may have, I can't remember. But if I did...sit back, grab a cigar and a glass of scotch, and deal with the repetition. Also, I have a strange obsession with boccocini cheese. Tangent.


I've had to go through another round of ultrasounds lately, including the dreaded 'internal ultrasound' (cue echo). Fine. I drank a million gallons of water and didn't pee for a month per the instructions. After the normal ultrasound, I was able to hobble, bent-over because I had to pee so bad, to the bathroom (which was OCCUPIED!!! Seriously. Hospitals should have like, 100 bathrooms for this procedure), and then was told to come back for an 'internal ultrasound'.


Ok, says I.


So this 12-year old boy is my technician, and he has a woman with him as a witness, I'm assuming for safety. Why she didn't just do it, I have no idea.


And he begins his little speech...


"This will be just like a tampon..."


And then he proceeds to whip out what looks like a police baton from behind his back.


AND YOU WANT TO PUT THAT WHERE?!?


"Son," I said (can I call him 'Son' now that I'm 40-ish maybe and he's like, 12?), "I need to stop you right there. That is NOT 'like a tampon'. THAT is a police baton. You need to be schooled in feminine hygiene products."


The woman started laughing but he turned about 800 shades of red. Good. Hopefully he uses this as a lesson.


By the time he finished playing PackMan with the police baton that was stuck inside my hoo-hoo, I had to pee so bad again that I almost couldn't get off the bed.


Surgery scheduled for August 7. Sadly, no kids for RedKap. Luckily, I have my two nerds of nieces ...and I tried to post a photo of them but the site wouldn't let me.  Maybe it need an internal ultrasound.