So. This morning there was much wailing and moaning in the Trance house, and it wasn’t even all from me due to having to get up at six on a Saturday.

This child was NERVOUS. I think he genuinely imagined that someone was going to drive an ice pick into his arm and suck out every last drop of blood.

After the wailing, we headed out into the Deep Ghetto to Ghetto Hospital, where we met up with a very nice Lab Lady who had purple-streaked hair.

The very nice Lab Lady asked him to pee in a cup, which he did, and then she asked him to sit in The Chair. You know the one, The Chair with the long arm, The Chair in which the vampires come and suck your blooooood.

The boy was as pale as a ghost, and that is usually not one of his physical traits, even though he certainly could have gotten it from me. I honestly thought he was going to faint.

The very nice Lab Lady explained the process in detail as she tied the rubber band around his arm, and she got to work.

He was fine, but this is where he messed up – he watched the whole damned thing.

As the fluid poured into the tubes, I swear I saw his eyes roll back into his head.

Thankfully, there was no passing out, and we made it through THAT.

Then we were on to Radiology, where he changed into a gown and was ushered into a big scary room with big scary equipment.

Let me preface this by telling you that I went to a party last night. I had a relatively early night, but a good one, and as a result of this good party night I was holding in the mother of all beer farts. So just imagine the discomfort and embarrassment and terror going through my mind, all while my baby is about to have to submit to this Big Scary Test.

Yeah.

So, we’re in this room, and the very nice x-ray girl who is just as cute as she could be explains the test, and J is silent and nervous and I am silent and praying to the Goddess of Gas that I will not fucking EXPLODE in this place and also praying to the Gastrointestinal Gods that nothing is wrong with my child so that we can move on with our weird little lives and then the boy is given a cup of what looks like a vanilla milkshake.

It’s not a vanilla milkshake.

I myself have had an upper GI, and let me tell you, barium tastes like chalky ass. It tastes like some sick motherfucker’s idea of a joke.

The J-Man took one sip and looked at me like, “Are you kidding me with this shit?”

I unfortunately was not kidding.

At this point I had to leave the room because they were going to start taking pictures, but I knew that this was probably a good thing, because he would be more likely to drink it for strangers than for the woman who labored with him for 72 fucking hours.

Yeah, I know.

He drank it, and I watched on a computer screen while it traveled through his little innards into his stomach, which was pretty cool. He rolled this way and that as directed, and he seemed to be doing fine…

…until they asked him to drink a second cup of barium.

The second cup was a different kind, thinner, and it smelled and apparently tasted just like glue.

The J-Man began to crack.

“I can’t do it.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to, or they’re going to make you do this WHOLE THING over again.”
“NO!”
“Yes. So drink.”

He drank about half of it while holding his nose as the x-ray tech and I cheered on (but not too loudly, lest I lose my fart), and the test continued.

All in all it took about an hour and a half to complete the upper GI, and afterward we immediately went to McDonald’s and gorged ourselves on breakfast, which is something we never do. It was a nice treat.

And I didn’t fart, not even once.

Success.

I am reasonably certain that nothing is going to be wrong with him save a nervous stomach from those little hellions at school tormenting him, but I am glad we got things checked out.

Happy Saturday.

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