Just Testing ~ The EKG

You could see Dr. Larry Katz's eyes light up with anticipation of my sixty-fifth birthday. I suspect that he stayed up nights researching what tests he could find an excuse to give me, as long as he could justify it to Medicare of course. The simple, routine, every day types of tests came first. Medicare might balk at paying for a bunch of esoteric tests if it was already a given that I had but a few weeks left to live.

The EKG, or electrocardiogram, tells about the condition of the heart. The room of course was properly chilled so a sweater would have felt good and the young lady who set me up for the test had me remove my shirt and lie back. The electrodes are applied with sticky tape, and she carefully placed each one as close to where it was supposed to go while still assuring that it was also firmly attached to the maximum number of body hairs possible. After the test was over, and as she was removing the electrodes from me, she sweetly said "This might hurt a little bit" while my mind was wondering just how loud a scream she had heard while doing this, or maybe even whether she'd ever been punched out by an irate patient.

I tried to be a good patient. There were a bunch more tests to enjoy for the next week or so. Larry knew that if he didn't treat me right I might never tell him the secret to having a lot more hair than he has or a much flatter belly, or even just less grey hair mixed with the brown. Wrinkles? Lines in the face? Hanging jowels and throat? I'm not even going there! I have the SECRET!