5 feet 4 and dust…

5 foot 4 and dust...

BETTING À DAY

In my pretty hospital gown, with my back to the wall, my feet well aligned on the floor, I am measured by a height chart.

Then I am send me to sit down.

— How tall are you? asks the attendant.

— 5 foot 5!

— We're more like 5 foot 4 and a little bit…

I'm stunned. What do you mean, 5 foot 4? Where did the rest of me go?

— All my clients have the same reaction.

I'm at the radiology center for a bone densitometry exam. 

We are laid on a table and a device passes over our body to measure the density of our bones.

Is that me?

What ? Am I already starting to shrink? It was a mistake… I was standing straight, chin up, and the attendant made me lower my head.

Don't look, that's where I lost some height.

At the end of the exam, I was asked to sit up. Sitting in front of a screen, the attendant looks at the imagery of my pelvis.

Shit! Is that me? Those bones seem very small to me. My God ! And to think that's all that will be left of me.

— Have you ever been diagnosed with osteoporosis?

— No.

— Rheumatoid arthritis?

— No.

< p>— Have you had a broken bone in the last ten years?

— No.

My God, what does she see? Am I about to crumble?

—My colleague is going to give you an x-ray of your back.

Another nice lady who sits me down on a nice table ” frette,” lying on your side, arms like this, shoulders like that, head to the side. In short, twisted. Same series of agonizing questions. 

— That’s it, it’s over. You can get dressed, we'll send the results to your doctor.

Misery! Am I already a candidate for titanium hips and knees?

We are very little: 5 feet 4 inches and a little bit… Worry me, me, a little bit!  

5 foot 4 and dust...