Oompa Loompa Doompadee Doo

Today, I completed a Thermo-regulatory Sweat Test for the department of neurophysiology. This is another test to dive deeper into the wonders of my autonomic nervous system. Sweating, like breathing and blinking, happens automatically (although we've all experienced the embarrassment of pits stains and wish it wasn't quite so automatic from time to time...).This test also measured how my body temperature responds to changes in climate.

Now I've become quite accustomed to having tests and procedures done in a hospital. We all know the drill-give your birth date, reveal far more of your body than you expected, hang out in a petri dish for awhile and then go along your merry way. So even though this test was new to me, I hadn't really given it much thought. Turns out, this was an experience unlike ANY other.

I started off by donning a "fabric bikini."  (A)-aren't all bikinis made of fabric? and (B) let me assure you there was absolutely no element of my outfit that resembled something I may have worn on the beach. Next, my very kind and fastidious nurse decided that she didn't want my feeding tube to come in contact with the test. How thoughtful of her I thought...that is until she "protected it" by coiling it up, rolling it up with flesh colored wrapping and having it stick straight out from my body. And no, I have not started the Cialis yet.

After securing my hair in a shower cap and placing space age goggle over my eyes, the nurse pulled over this HUGE air vent to right above my bed and proceeded to cover me, head to toe, in bright orange powder. I don't mean a gentle dusting. I mean that I instantly transformed into a 6 foot tall oompa loompa.

She wrapped a few temperature monitors around my body, stuck a thermometer in my mouth and rolled me into a tanning bed. OK, it wasn't really a tanning bed, but that's what it looked like, and as the president of Pale America, I was willing to get tan for the sake of my health. No such luck. The next thing I know, classical music came drifting through the speakers and the little chamber warmed up to over 100 degrees. Considering that it is about -5 today and considering my average body temperature, I dozed happily for the first 15 minutes or so. Then it got hot...really hot. I'd also like to add at this point that my oompa loompa powder turns bright purple when it comes in contact with sweat. So there I was-a giant oompa loompa, wearing a "fabric bikini" with an unfortunately wrapped feeding tube, sweating my brains off and transforming into Violet Beauregarde after her terrible misfortune with the gum. Willy Wonka would have loved it. It is at this point that I looked up and noticed little cameras EVERYWHERE. I mean, I know the point was to watch how I sweat, but must we document this fashion atrocity from every angle?? Heaven help me if People magazine gets a hold of this.

After about an hour in the chamber of heat, I was released to the showers. I got most of the powder off and now only look faintly tie-dye. Fingers crossed the paparazzi doesn't secretly work at Mayo...