Gd Damn It

I had a rough weekend. And not in one of those awesome-time-please-send-bail-money kind of ways.

Things kicked off with an MRI. Which isn’t a big deal. I’m (sadly) getting to be a pro. Close your eyes, think of something nice, and try to dose off a bit. It’s gotten formulaic. But—as seemingly happens every time—I left with a large, colorful bruise from the contrast agent.

The incredibly cute, incredibly tall imaging tech put an IV into my arm and shot me full of Gadolinium. I know what you are thinking. Wasn’t that a character in Lord of the Rings?

Nope. Gadolinium is a elemental rare earth metal. With the chemical symbol Gd and sitting in space 64 on the periodic table, gadolinium was injected through my IV, coursing up to my brain in a mere 20 seconds. Kinda cool, isn't it.

And it’s magnetic.  Paramagnetic, to be specific. This means it is attracted by an external magnetic field. Like an MRI machine, for example.  Science. Yeah…

 

I have found that a hospital gown renders my flirting ability useless. I tried to charm my way into Tall Tech telling me how alight my brain was. Denied. I asked if I could take a quick peek myself. I even tried to look slightly seductive. Nothing will put you in your place as quickly as--while flirting--looking down and seeing your feet clad in hospital socks. Hot.

Needless to say, I didn’t get to peek at my films. Now I have to wait for the doctor to call me. I hate waiting. Have I mentioned that before?

Right before the MRI, I spent 20 minutes trying to get my nose stud out while using the mirror on my car visor. Don’t mock me. It isn’t as easy as it looks. I swear, it crossed my mind more than once just to cancel the whole Gd procedure. (Get it? Ahh... I amuse myself...) I finally wrestled the stud out of my nostril, then took another ten minutes to slide the plastic retainer stud into the vacated hole. This was to prevent the piercing from closing up. Because I’m not doing that little nose-piercing procedure again if I can help it.

So, now my nose hurts too.

I decided to take a derby sabbatical. The summer is just too overwhelmingly hot for me in the un-cooled Derby Depot. So I am going to refocus my energy, working on skating basics on an indoor, climate-controlled rink. I’m going to be tutored once a week by adorable Ali. I’ve also made plans for weekly skating with Sara and skate-dates with fellow-freshie Katie.

This plan feels like the right thing to do. But, I still feel a little bad about it. Like I’m quitting. Which I know I’m not. But it does kind of feel that way.

So throw that on the rough-weekend pile.

I went to a wedding Saturday night. It was a lovely outdoor ceremony and reception. I was feeling good. Feeling pretty. 

And, about 20 minutes into it, I could feel myself beginning to overheat.

I’m starting to be able to identify the oncoming heat wave. It starts with the sweating. On this particular evening, the sweating was ruining my well-coiffed hair. And the makeup I had carefully applied had begun to slide off my face. The ceremony hadn’t started yet, so I couldn’t even pretend that it was due to emotional tears.

So I took myself inside the nearby building with a synthetically-created atmosphere. And that is when I started getting the chills. I was just not going to win. I toughed it out until my tremors were noticed by my little niece and the back of my dress had a sweat stain running down the spine. That’s when I called it a night. And I didn’t have any cake. Boo.

Anyway, I’m going to put the dress in the wash and the weekend behind me. This upcoming weekend will be a good one. I’m due for one, I think.