Ultra-Hell!

I had the extremely unpleasant experience of having an ultrasound taken this morning. My ribs are still throbbing. The reason for this ultrasound is that there is a slight possibility I have a bad Gallbladder, and the ultrasound was our test to find out. Gallbladder. Ugh. Bane of my existence. Even the word Gallbladder is ugly. But I digress.

Now, when I hear the word "ultrasound," I think of delicate pregnant women, with their massive bellies, having cool jelly squirted onto their tummies, and then receiving a gentle massage by a plastic camera. The procedure seems calm, and soothing in the movies, and at the end of it all you usually find out something wonderful that goes along with your participation in the miracle of life. It's joyous, exciting, and pleasant.

My ultrasound however hurt like a MOTHER! First off, the jelly they squirt on you is hot. I didn't know this, nor did I prepare for it. I'm not sure if the jelly is always served warm, or if this particular tube had been recently heated in the microwave for that days usage, but when it shot across my stomach the fear of being scalded to death caused a scream to leap from my lips. "Oh, is that too warm?" The technician inquired.

Next, they had me lie on my side to begin the ultrasound. The camera they use moves smoothly enough across the skin, but when the technician finds an area she needs to photograph she digs the camera into your body, then asks you to take a deep breath and hold it. When this is being done against a fleshly part of your stomach, it is mildly uncomfortable. When it is being done to your rib cage, it makes you want to die. The worst part of it IS the fact that the technician asks you to take a deep breath and hold it. Easy enough under normal circumstances, but when you are already in pain, you are sort of holding your breath as a result of the shallow breathing you are naturally doing. Having to inhale deeply and then focus on holding it, while your ribs are being separated by a camera, makes it a tad bit difficult. Also, when the technician forgets to tell you to start breathing again (which happened on several occasions) it is rather unbearable. In fact, at one point, after finally picking up on my discomfort level, the technician asked if I was doing OK.

"Is this supposed to hurt?" I winced.

"Yeah, when I'm by your ribs it will be a bit uncomfortable."

"Oh good, because I thought maybe I was dying. Do you press that hard on pregnant women?"

"Well, we don't really need to see their ribs, so they generally don't complain." The technician responded with a smirk on her face that led me to wonder if she thought I was being a baby about it.

Finally, the most agonizing part of the whole ordeal is the fact that ultrasound technicians can't tell you whether they found anything or not. My own technician had to call in an older, more experienced technician, who then talked about how difficult it was to see anything in my body, which leads me to believe they didn't find what they were searching for. Unfortunately I have no idea because they can't read me my results, my doctor has to. So...until I hear from my doctor I have no idea what is going on. The Gallbladder saga continues.

At least the ultra-hell is done with. My bruised ribs will eventually feel back to normal. I hope.