First of all, my heart seems to be okay, but not quite right. Everything seems okay, but there�s still a little mysterious something, they just don�t know what yet. I mean, no one else seems alarmed, so I am not alarmed. But yet, they want to do you know, a few more tests.
The latest in cardiac-testing included a portable EKG system strapped to my person for the last 24 hours, just to record what a �normal� day of heart activity for me is like, see if bad things are happening.
I know. You can forget bionic, as of ten o�clock yesterday morning I looked like I was strapped with a straight-up BOMB.
For real, all day I had been walking around with white wires from the electrodes sticking out everywhere � kinda like I was hiding about 32 iPods under my t-shirt. And if that wasn�t explosive-terrorist-on-the-loose-looking enough, all of those wires are attached to a big-ass digital clock. That I was supposed to � wait for it� wear around my neck.
Insert appropriate Flava Flav joke here!
Did I mention besides the cumbersome aspect of toting all of this hardware around, there�s the fact I felt like I was being, like, watched? Sure, I can look all cool and collected on the outside, but physiology doesn�t lie my friends, so when the read-out shows a big-ass spike in heart rate, what must they think?
Like, all day, when I wasn�t busy making airport security jokes, I�d been doing like, spontaneous jumping jacks and other things, just to give the doctors something fun to look at when the results come out. And all day, after every move I�d made I�d wonder: what does a sprint up the stairs look like? What kind of record does a sneeze leave?
But you know what�s really funny? It just so happened while wearing this thing and talking on the phone late last night, I had to sort of break things off with the really great guy I�ve been seeing. I didn�t want to, because he is really great and I like him a lot, but it�s just one of those things that you know just won�t work out, so you gotta let it go no matter how much it really sucks, ya know?
And yeah, it sucked.
And I was sad. Still am.
And not to be overly dramatic or anything, but after I got off the phone with him, still strapped into this cardio-monitoring device, it occurred to me: holy shit, I�ve got an actual record of my metaphorical heart break.
Isn�t that fucking hilarious?