Ingrate

Good morning. Today is Scan Day #3,512.

I’d like to see someone try it.

It’s not MRI day, where I don’t have to fast or drink chalky barium cocktail, it’s not the day where I get the results of my scan while the scanner bed is still warm from my lying in it. It’s the other day. A CT scan of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis (just for kicks).

Last night I started getting annoyed about today’s scan. Like, really annoyed. Beyond reasonable measure. And this morning, since I couldn’t have breakfast, I dawdled in bed as long as I possibly could, until I was running late, and then the wrong train came twice in a row.

No amount of being annoyed about this makes sense. I realize that. It didn’t stop me from lightly shoulder-checking the guy who stood in the subway door as I was trying to leave, who couldn’t yield a couple extra inches to let people off. I didn’t yield either. The word for me today in Italian is scontrosa. That basically translates to peevish, but I think that word in English rather diminishes the sentiment. I could barely keep myself from rolling my eyes when the assistant showed me where to change and where the gowns were. I looked at the closet of gowns and thought, “Seersucker. Heh. Sucker.” Like it was a joke being played on all of us.

It’s kind of a new feeling, the feeling that this is getting old. I know I’m lucky. But I have known that for a while. I know I could have been dead instead. Does that make up for having to skip breakfast? Obviously it is hard to put those two thoughts in the same paragraph, but I’m that way today. I went there.

I just went in to get my IV placed. The kind female Korean nurse practitioner was the one I got this time. She is just as good and kind as the male Pakistani nurse practitioner. Somehow I don’t think he would have made me feel quite as bad for having a shitty attitude today. In the face of today’s NP, relentlessly cheerful and understanding and patient, I feel like a jerk. She asked me if it was still raining outside. Because she spends her whole shift in a windowless office jabbing IVs into the arms of people who are mostly a lot more freaked out than I am, because it is probably their first time.

Another assistant just recognized me and said hello. I’m starting to be recognized here. Yikes.

I just looked back to see when I wrote my post railing against improper scan day attire. That’s a whole year ago. Today my eyes have been assaulted by about six men improperly attired, six pairs of pale male legs sticking out of seersucker gowns with dress socks and shoes at the bottom. This isn’t doing wonders for my mood.

Results tomorrow.

Scan + ennui = scannui
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