Griping

I don't necessarily mind all these tests. I don't mind having various radioactive and radio-opaque substances squirted into my veins, or having various forms of radiation sent sleeting through my tissues like hail through a sheet of newspaper.

What I mind is not being able to have coffee in the morning. These 24-hour fasting tests are a bummer.

So I get out of bed. Already I can smell coffee on the air, because Jean's already had a cup. And I walk out to the kitchen and think "Yes, a hot cup of aromatic coffee would be splendid, wouldn't it?" And there stands the coffee maker, and there stands the supply of my preferred Sumatran Reserve coffee, and there's my cup, and I think "No, I think instead of this wonder of nature, I'll have a glass of cold water. Yeah! That's ever so much better than coffee!"

I've been known to cheat before medical tests before. What difference could it make to, say, a lipid test if I sneak a cuppa Sumatran Reserve or not? And if the numbers end up being way off, who cares, we'll just repeat the test. But these recent tests have a more overtly life-and-death aspect to them, and I think I'll resist the urge to cheat.

But not the urge to gripe about it.