On CAT scans and overheard coffee shop revolution chatter

One week into my 45th year, I was privvy to a revolution plot and had my first CAT Scan.  Why did I put the scan off so long?  I realize these gizzmos have been around for awhile, but this was my first opportunity to slip into the donut.

Actually, the scan was a non-event except for the half gallon of iodine solution I had to down in the preceding hour.  I can see why the stuff isn’t available in vending machines.  My bladder didn’t fill until precisely the moment that the spacey bed whirred me into the heart of the donut.  A digital voice commanded me to hold my breath a few times, putting additional pressure on my bladder, while the machine took pictures of my abdomen, but I remeained continent.  They’re looking for evidence of what’s causing my chronic bloating.  I suspect they’ll find Sherry’s cell phone that she lost last month, a permission slip that Maia was supposed to return to school, and some paper clips.

“Does this bedsheet make me look bloated?” I asked Lori the technician.

Lori assured me I looked fine. She also said the pictures were very good, and that the doctor would have to show them to me.  I’m waiting by the phone.

On my way home, I killed some time at a downtown coffee shop between busses.  I sat at a table next to three “suits.”  Truthfully, only one was in a suit, the other two in sweaters, but they were in the set of business professionals that populate downtown Duluth, along with the local homeless population (it’s a nice mix).  I had no choice but to listen to their conversation about Obama’s press first conference last night.

“I’m so tired of this.”

“It’s just the same old bi-partisan stuff.”

“All I heard from Obama was ‘I…I…I…I.’  It’s all about him.”

“We just need to throw all of the bums out and start from scratch.”

Note:  We’d actually planned to watch the conference, but were thwarted by Wolfe Blitzer, who earlier had said it would be on CNN at eight.  Of course, we didn’t adjust for the time zone difference.  Morons!  Anyway, we watched some of the pundits analyze after, but fell asleep.

I found it comical that these suits, clearly bastians of the status quo, were advocating out and out revolution.  I briefly considered we board the #9 bus together, hijack the driver, head for DC, and get ‘er done!

Instead, I finished my bagel.