A Little More Invasive

I'm not sure why I like filling out forms, well, except for the completely useless ones the school sends out at the beginning of every year. Really, why did I ever have to fill out the same 327 questions for eight kids every year my kids were in school? I finally wised up to that one and taught the kids to fill the forms out themselves and forge my signature.

Anyway, back to forms. I had MRIs last night, one with contrast and the other without, and along with the tests came forms. The questions began rather benign.


Previous MRI - no
Allergies - penicillin, erythromycin, and cogentin
Claustrophobia - no

Then they got a little more invasive:

Nursing mother - not just no, but HELL FREAKING NO! Been there done that, besides, see these boobs? Well you can't because, well you're on that side of the screen and I'm on this side, but they pretty much rock. After all I paid to have them lifted and perfectly placed AIN'T NO WAY ANY GNAWING KID IS GONNA GET A HOLD OF THEM!

Any chance of pregnancy? If so I'd be paging Dr. Kevorkian STAT!

Metal shank attaching artificial eye - uh, creeepy. Did they reeeeallly have to use the word "shank?"

Eyelid spring or wire - WHAT? They make such a thing?

Penile implant - excuse me while I check that one out, what the eff?

Implanted ports - you mean like USB? I'm lost at this point.

I'm checking "no, no and no."

Then the comes question that gets me, "Any tattoos?" My first thought was "what in the hell is this thing going to do to my tattoos?"

The technician walks out about that time and I ask him, shallow as I am, if the test is going to screw up my tattoos. I didn't know, I mean, why would it be on the form?

"Well ma'am," he asks, "did you get your tattoos in prison?"

What in the world? "LOOK AT ME! DO I LOOK LIKE I'VE BEEN IN PRISON? DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE THAT WOULD LET BUBBA TATTOO ME WITH A SHARPENED PAPER CLIP OR A MECHANICAL PENCIL?"

"Well ma'am, we never know who may have been in prison and may have been tattooed there."


Then I realized this is the guy that's gonna put me on a table, stick a very big, very sharp needle in my arm and shoot me full of who knows what. Then he's going to send me head first into a big magnetic tube. I'd better watch my mouth and my attitude.

"I'm sorry. No, I've never been in prison. No, Bubba never tattooed me."

"Ma'am, please follow me."

"Oh shit!"


FYI, no results yet. Maybe tomorrow. Frustrating. At least I'm alive and my tattoos are in tact.