And then there was the ultrasound.

Patiently waiting, impatiently waiting. Just waiting. I hate this part. 
 
I had an ultra sound on Tuesday morning. It was gross and uncomfortable. The room was too cold and it just added to the awkwardness of the entire situation.
 
The technician started with the traditional ultra sound over my lower abdomen, that wasn't bad. At one point she informed me she would be turning on the sound to hear the blood flow to my ovaries. She listened to the right ovary. This is the one I'm convinced hurts all the time; it sounded like the ocean, like when you put a large sea shell to your ear and the silent swish of white noise. Okay cool, that's what blood flow sounds like. 
 
Then she ruined my calm, increased my paranoia and listened to the left ovary. I could hear my heartbeat, an incredibly audible heartbeat over the top of the seashell/white noise background sound. How come I couldn't hear my heartbeat on the other side? Is that ovary dead? Is there something wrong with it? Oh crap!
 
Then the technician proceeded with the internal ultrasound. There was nothing to look at on the ceiling. I sat there motionless worrying about the lack of sound I heard. Talking myself into believing that I was wrong and probably just didn't notice the heartbeat because it was the first side. Worrying. 
 
The ultra sound hurt, not a ten on the scale, but enough that I was pretty uncomfortable. After poking and prodding around for what seemed an eternity, she then turned on the sound again. Right side, white noise. Left side, heart beat. What the hell does that mean?
 
Now I'm waiting for a phone call. I just want to hear the words "your normal" or "your about to drop dead" because it would stop me from worrying about the whole thing.