This afternoon I was hanging out at the local radiology centre. I had to have some scans done – I don’t usually hang out there just for shits and giggles, although the standard visit usually involves at least one of these things, if the mysterious smells are anything to go by.
I had just been scanned, so my bladder was happily empty. I shot a text to a friend, letting her know I was having what I fondly term “the dildo scan”. If you’ve had one of these, you will know exactly what I mean. if you haven’t, then here is a picture of the device used to scan the pelvic region:
Here are some peculiar things about the dildo scan:
1. They put a condom over it. I guess you can never be too careful.
2. The radiologist asks if you want to insert it yourself, or if you would prefer them to do it. I am not sure that there is a right way to answer this. If I let them do it, am I cheating on my beloved? If I do it myself, am I a bit pervey?
3. When the radiologist is getting the images she wants, it is like she is using a joystick. A joystick. I tend to feel like my ladyland is the scene for a new video game: Perhaps not Call of Duty or Mine Craft – probably more like PacMan, or at a stretch, Frogger. There were definitely moments when it felt like the radiologist had mistaken my right ovary for a power pellet, and a fleeting squirm when she went the mad dash to dodge the crocodiles.
But I digress.
I’d just finished my scan, and was perched happily in the waiting room. I saw an elderly man walk in. He was asked if he had a full bladder and he nodded in the affirmative. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that the first thought I had was dedicated to pondering whether or not he might actually have a vagina. Then I realised he might not be having a dildo scan.
It was during this post-scan haze that I found myself with time to fill. You see, there’s a period of generally around 10 minutes when you have to wait for the films. This time period can be shorter, but only if you are not in a hurry. If you are in a hurry, you are looking at roughly 20 minutes. If you are in a hurry and risking a parking fine, add another ten.
I did something that is known to be somewhat risky: I gazed around the room at the other people who were waiting. Sadly, unfortunately, there was an elderly couple who were wearing his and hers Crocs. Now, I love Crocs. What was sad and unfortunate about this was that you can bet your bottom dollar that I was 100% committed to the idea of sneaking a photo of the feet of this elderly couple, so that I could show the photo to my dear friend Lyndal (who also loves Crocs).
Out came the mobile. Flicked on the camera. Then slowly zoomed in on the feet. I was poised, ready to capture the moment when my name was called.
Being the stubborn and focused soul that I am, I kept the camera pointed at the Croc feet. Every movement was shifting them in and out of focus. I zoomed out and in, trying to make up for the jerks that my relatively smooth walking was inflicting upon my usually fine camerawork.
It wasn’t until my arm twitched that things went wrong.
As it twitched, I realised I’d arrived at the counter, where my scans were waiting for me. The twitch also resulted in the camera flash blinding the elderly pair at the counter – yes, the pair wearing the Crocs. And what’s worse? The twitch also rendered my careful focus and zooming totally, utterly useless.
The photo I took is crap. There is only a hint of Croc. It’s mostly carpet and shame. A dash of violated personal space. But yeah, mostly shame. So, if you hear of me being charged with offenses relating to disturbing the peace, this, my friends, is why I may need bailing out:
Totally worth it.