This morning, I added to my wardrobe. For the next 24 hours, I'll be wearing a holter monitor.
I had an extremely short wait (I know! I couldn't believe it either!) at the MGH before I heard my name being called, complete with Eastern European accent. The technician and I, a swarthy guy from Romania, quickly became acquainted. Of course, it helped that I was stripped down to my waist and that he was swabbing me with teeny patches alcohol swabs. It was a quick process; the only downside was having to be rubbed with sandpaper (apparently, it helps the electrodes to latch on to your skin), something the technician apologized profusely for having to do. Once the electrodes were all affixed and he had given me the required instructions, he graciously readjusted my boobs back into my bra. Needless to say, he and I are now officially dating. (ROFLMFAO!!!)
So here I sit, hoping I'll have another bout of arrhythmia. Of course, if Murphy's Law holds true to form, this will be the medical equivalent of bringing your car to the garage because it's making a weird noise, only to have it purr like a kitten while the mechanic's listening to it.
I return tomorrow morning, when the monitor will be removed and an ECG performed. And then, I wait ...
... thump thump ... thump thump ... thump thump ... thump thump ...
(thanks to my personal photog, Julia ٩(-̮̮̃-̃)۶ )
I had an extremely short wait (I know! I couldn't believe it either!) at the MGH before I heard my name being called, complete with Eastern European accent. The technician and I, a swarthy guy from Romania, quickly became acquainted. Of course, it helped that I was stripped down to my waist and that he was swabbing me with teeny patches alcohol swabs. It was a quick process; the only downside was having to be rubbed with sandpaper (apparently, it helps the electrodes to latch on to your skin), something the technician apologized profusely for having to do. Once the electrodes were all affixed and he had given me the required instructions, he graciously readjusted my boobs back into my bra. Needless to say, he and I are now officially dating. (ROFLMFAO!!!)
So here I sit, hoping I'll have another bout of arrhythmia. Of course, if Murphy's Law holds true to form, this will be the medical equivalent of bringing your car to the garage because it's making a weird noise, only to have it purr like a kitten while the mechanic's listening to it.
I return tomorrow morning, when the monitor will be removed and an ECG performed. And then, I wait ...
... thump thump ... thump thump ... thump thump ... thump thump ...
(thanks to my personal photog, Julia ٩(-̮̮̃-̃)۶ )
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