Who else really thinks God is having Himself a hearty laugh over my choice today to wear possibly the most low-cut shirt I own? You better believe there are more photos to be had and adored in the morning. Because I think it is truly that ridiculous. I really do.

I had my follow-up appointment with my primary care physician this morning at 11:45. While I was waiting at the desk to pay my copay and while the receptionist was on the phone with another patient—and really, what is HIPAA besides another form to sign, anyway?—I read the radiologists’s report from the lung scan. Everything looked fine (like they told me last week) except for a “slight abnormality” in the posterior right oxygen-sucker-outer.

She followed standard operating procedures and took ganders down my throat (clear post-nasal drainage welcomes you, hayfever) and in my ears (the right has a pink spot which could be the beginnings of infection or a blood vessel and I am to tell her if it starts hurting, so don’t let me forget). I asked about the echo and she said it looked fine. I asked about the lung scan and she mentioned the “slight abnormality” and said that it was probably from having asthma. Kind of like a sweet little bit of “Asthma Wuz Here” graffiti on the ole 02 parachute. She said she’d rather see more abnormalities to justify performing a pulmonary angiography to rule out highly unlikely pulmonary embolism.

She asked about the palpitations I’d complained of earlier and I said they were continuing, despite the distance in time from the asthma attack and the tapering off of prednisone (I’m on day seven of nine). I told her how they happen (arbitrarily with no warning or much to-do) and how they make me feel (anxious). And why do you feel this anxiety, Ashley? I don’t know.

So she ordered that the Electrocardiogram (EKG) Laboratory tape up my chest just as soon as possible to keep my heart from falling out. And also put some leads on there and we’ll play connect the dots with the highs and lows on the readout—I have a horse, what do you have?

Turns out I was in fact wearing a shirt that didn’t happen to so much be a turtleneck and while it is pretty sweet to have all this awesome tape all over me, it wasn’t all that awesome to have coworkers ask what the crap is wrong with you, lady. Please tell me this isn’t going to make you cry, again.

So there you go. I pretty much have nothing to wear tomorrow, and even less to wear that minimizes the TAPE, OH THE TAPE. Also? No shower tomorrow. And let’s be honest—wasn’t I just looking for an excuse to go without anyway?