Life: Meeting the Ultrasound Tech

What was supposed to be a check up on the acute pain I have been feeling in my "diaphragm area aka under-boob area" with my doctor soon turned to nightmare when she sent me to get an ultrasound done. It sounded like a piece of cake-that is until Vlad the technician said "Could you lay down please, Ma'am?". First of all what the fuck? Vlad, you could be my grandpa, for real. Second of all, do I really have to lay down? Since I am a well-behaved patient, I did as I was told. Soon, a clear gel has spread on my abdomen and I felt like a pregnant lady on TV, minus the "pregnant belly" apparatus. And then he started getting close to my treasure chest. And that is when I remembered the box ticked off by my dearly beloved doctor:

ABDOMEN/PELVIC

Fuck. I had agreed for Vlad to give me a full on massage or something. And he was gracious and didn't look too surprised at my unkempt Amazonian forest or my stretch marks or my ex-almost-abs turned to pudding.  Such a kind man. If he wasn't my ultrasound technician, he could have been a great lover, I can tell. Frankly, I'm surprised he wasn't in the mood...nothing says romance like make-shift candles in the form of a dim-lighted lamp or the sounds of a keyboard being taped away. Nothing says love like your lover being more interested by a blue lit screen then your confused, uncomfortable gaze towards the ceiling. And so I think it was just weird...to be so "intimate" with someone and all of it for what? To stop the voices in my head saying "Google is right girl, you're gonna have a heart attack! Or cancer, it's definitely cancer!".