sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole

I went in for an ultrasound of my heart today. It's a boy, and it likes to dance. Thing is, the ticker's been a little funny recently, making up new steps from time to time and trying them out in the discotheque of my chest cavity; so my (very attractive and younger than me, by the way) doctor said we should get a good look at the thing, see if it's staggering around like somebody spiked its punch.

If you ever have occasion to have one of these tests done, I highly recommend staying awake and having a look (the tech told me that some people fall asleep and that's fine, and then kept asking me to hold my breath, roll over, etc.). The experience of seeing your heart in action is nothing short of profound, and it really does look like it's dancing around in there, like it's just as excited as it can be that you've decided to drop in and see it today. The flaps on the valves flail around like Michael Stipe's arms, the whole thing rocks back and forth like a cartoon monkey, and its sense of rhythm is, of course, impeccable.

The good news is that apparently everything looks pretty darn good structurally. I only wish that I'd had a little more foresight and asked for a video. They do that for expectant mothers, right? It's something that they should also offer to echocardiogram patients. Who wouldn't want a DVD of their heart doing its little dance of life, not caring what anybody else thinks of its moves but just really happy feeling the beat? There's something very comforting about being able to look at it and think there it is, keeping me alive. Thanks, little buddy. Keep up the good work.