Chia chest... a sight for sore eyes

Almost six years ago we moved from the city, Toronto to the quieter, sedate region of Ontario known as the Kawarthas.

After stumbling through more than 60 houses in person, TLATO found our home.

We have done much work to it over the years and yes, it is our castle.

However, as many of you are now aware, we are moving the end of September to a different part of Ontario, Barrie – or as DJ put it, ‘the gateway to Muskoka’.

That as may be.

Finding a family doctor was mission impossible. Late last year, Carolyn Brown returned from a long stint in Saudi Arabia to continue practicing here. (Why is it so called professionals, such as lawyers, doctors, dentists and the like practice? Will they ever get it right?)

I digress.

Our names came up in the doctor lottery and we finally had a family doctor.

This spring, for the first time in years, I had a full physical. Dr. Brown, being new to the region, thought that at ‘my age’ I should be baseline tested for practically anything and everything known to man and medicine.

And so began batteries of tests, needles, blood work, prodding and probing that no person over the age of consent should have to go through without at least one witness/chaperone. Eventually dignity is cast aside like those stupid smocks provided in hospitals and the like. Americans have the right to bear arms; me, I bared my bum on more than one occasion.

I have had chronic sinus problems since I was a kid; off to an ENT guy and an allergist. Sinuses scraped and washed and needles stuck into me and they discovered I was allergic to cats. Big surprise. I could have told them that and saved our beleaguered system mucho dollars in tests. We have five cats at home. I live with it.

Although I like to work out at least five times a week, it was determined that I needed to have my heart checked out. So, I had an echocardiogram. I’m going for a stress test next week.

This brings me too yesterday. I was to be fitted with a Holter monitor. This device would be checking my heart rate for about 36 hours or so. “Remove your shirt and sit in that chair,” demanded a smooth talking (except for the clicking) tongue-studded female technician. I did as I was told. I swear I never saw this next part coming. I was ‘attacked’ with a razor and parts of my chest; abdomen and sides were dry-shaved with Bic’s finest. All the better to attach electrodes to my skin, I was told.

Lovely.

My upper body now resembles a Chia Pet with a severe case of Alopecia.

Some women pay a small fortune for a ‘Brazilian’. I received a hospital special – for free.

I can’t wait to remove this thing at 7.00am Wednesday. The comments in the locker room should be fun later that evening.

You will note that this is one post that will not have a photographic reference…