Kidney Bean There. Done That.

I went to GW Radiology this morning for a nuclear scan of my kidneys. I know I'm an adult and all, but I just can't bare to watch them put the IV into my arm. I can handle the pain, but the sight is completely another thing. I basically spent a large majority of this morning ignoring my left arm completely except to take a picture message of the IV to send to my mom with the subject "If I look at this, I'm going to vomit."

After injecting you with a diuretic to bring down your blood pressure, they use the IV to fill you with this drug that causes your kidneys to work. It contains some radioactive elements that allow the functioning to be caught on x-ray. The table you sit on is about my size. I asked the guy, while in a low blood pressure induced daze, "What do you put really fat people on?" He laughed and said, "You don't know how many people actually ask me that." You can't be more than 350 pounds to sit on it. And fat people don't x-ray as well, apparently.

30 minutes of not being able to move (amongst a gazillion little itches that only appeared because my body knows it's not allowed to do a thing about the itches) and needing to pee to save my life (since I was given a diuretic) led to the conclusion that my lower right kidney isn't responding. Two more scans to go. Luckily, GW's near my apartment. Damn kidney, I told it to lay off the pot today....

So, my mom tries to make me feel better by telling me that she just talked to her friend, a doctor, who says that kidney issues are easy to fix. Oh good. Thanks mom. But she doesn't stop there. Kidney issues like my lazy freaking lower right kidney can be fixed by inserting a stint into the artery. Now, I'm from a medical family so when my dad had his heart attack I was fully informed about stints being put in and all that other medical terminology (if I didn't hate blood so much, I'd probably make an okay doctor). So, I know what that means. Stint needed= Surgery. Holy Shit. Surgery. I've never ever had surgery. I don't want surgery. I'm scared sh**less of surgery. I am fully convinced I'll be the one in a million that something goes deathly wrong for... like the chick who wrote The First Wives Club during her routine plastic surgery treatment.

I just beggggggged my mom to promise to come up here and take care of me if I have to go under the knife. Me- think Zach Morris in that Saved By The Bell episode where he hurt his knee playing basketball and Lisa's mom had to operate.

In less overdramatic, APK and I went to the Klee opening at the Phillips last night. He's definitely an interesting artist more for his use of various media than anything else. Compositionally, only a couple of pieces really had the wow factor, and most of these were later works. The Curator said the most important thing to note is how you can't categorize his artwork as one genre because he tried so many different techniques... then she talked for entirely too long preventing us from attacking the free wine and cheese.

Tonight, we have a party to raise money for the Roosevelt Robotics team. The organizer is a teacher at Roosevelt, and this is definitely a great showing of how wonderful and motivated a person she is... maybe my stupid lazy kidney should take a cue from her.