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My Heart Goes Wow

By Lee Guthrie

I lie on the table in the doctor’s office in one of those green gowns designed for a person three times my size, with gel spread all over my chest.

The table padding is covered with a crisp,white cloth (not that papery kind that comes on a roll), and every inch has been adjusted to my comfort—the headrest,the backrest, and even the little panel underneath that drops down like a trapdoor while they take pictures of my heart. A pretty, thirty-something woman stands over me, smiling as she fiddles with an ultrasound machine and gently pushes a stethoscope-like instrument over my chest. “This will take about thirty minutes,” she says. “Maybe forty-five.” It will take forty-five, I know. I’ve been doing this for years. As I curl onto my side (left side down for better imaging), I feel the walls and ceiling and smiling woman hover over me like cumulus clouds. I feel as though I’m in the Sistine Chapel, surrounded by deities who float against an azure sky, pointing their fingers, instructing me to recede into the refuge of this magical medical room, which I do.

About the Author

Lee Guthrie writing has appeared in Hippocampus Magazine and Literary Mama and has been produced at Piven Theatre. Throughout her career she has performed professionally in numerous plays, written a range of business content, and helped individuals and businesses craft and tell their stories. Originally from Tennessee, she currently lives in Chicago.