Looking up

I looked up and saw a soothing waterfall cascading over moss-laden stones. It's not often I see waterfalls above me as I lay on my back, but at least it was better than the two kittens and the ball of yarn.

Why would I want to see two kittens playing with yarn? There was nothing calming about that. And the kittens weren't at all cute; in fact, they were kind of scraggly looking.

The stirrups were cold. They put little socks over them to keep the metal from icing your feet, but it's really just a small comfort. Warm the KY, or warm the speculum. Those are HUGE comforts.

The poster is for pretending you're somewhere else, or to keep you entertained and your mind otherwise occupied while some person you see maybe once a year pokes and prods at your most sensitive areas with an overlarge and alien looking Q-tip.

You know, if they can put a man on the moon, why can't they take away the horrific discomfort of this cavity search? I hate the pap smear. It's so undignified. Laying there in a paper gown, then that gooey gel gets slogged on followed by the cold hard prodding of that invasive instrument and scccwwwwwAHHHH-- suddenly I feel like I'm a tent that's being aired out.

I scrunch my face and I'm immediately told to relax. Apparently scrunching your face also scrunches the not-your-face. I breathe. I stare up at the ceiling, at the glistening, new poster and I'm grateful it's not kittens anymore. Feeling like this, I'd associate the experience and end up resenting the kittens. It's hard to resent a waterfall.

Still, a little Enya might have been nice.