I went to the gynecologist today. First time since 2002.
Now before ya'll go all fanatical on me, I HAVE been having pap smears, I’ve just been letting my primary physician do them. I went to the Gyn today because I’ve been having some funky pain and thought she might know more what’s going on “down there”.
Evidently in a five year period we can have enormous mental and/or emotional changes. Either that or the memory just goes straight to hell. I had completely forgotten what it was like to sit in the waiting room of an Ob/Gyn’s office. Everybody is so effing pregnant! If they’re not looking like they swallowed a watermelon, they’re pushing 10 pounds of screaming flesh around in a cart.
Speaking of carts, that’s something I have NEVER understood. That tiny baby weighs how much? 10 – 15 pounds? How frigging much does all that other apparatus weigh??? I have never understood why people drag all that crap around to tote their baby in when they could just…oh I don’t know…TOTE THE BABY!?!? Anywho, that’s a completely different rant. Back to all the preggos in the waiting room…
I am 47 years old. My ovaries probably ain’t spitting out nothing more than shriveled smelly eggs, but seeing all the preggos was very depressing for me. I couldn’t a bit more handle a baby now than I could perform brain surgery, but gosh my uterus just ached seeing all the cute little spitting machines and the lovely, sensual rounded bellies.
Just before the tears started, my name was called from back somewhere deep in the pits of hell. Then the assault began. I go back to the little room where they hand you the nice little “open in the front” paper robe. These come with little plastic belts to tie it closed. I am assuming it was a belt. It was lying there on top of the robe. It looked like what I floss my teeth with but hey, the world is not made for grown-up sized women is it? They also hand you this piece of paper “for your lap”. For my lap!?!?! Sh*!&... I know and they know and they know that I know that piece of paper was for covering my Bojingo. They know that cute little robe ain’t gonna cover all my junk.
So the doc comes in, all fast and seemingly in a hurry. She does a breast exam and is asking me questions the entire time. Then she says, “Ok. Put your little feet in the stirrups for me”. I’m sitting there thinking who the hell else is in this room, cause I KNOW she ain’t referring to my feet as little. Had she told me to slide my little ass to the edge, I would have laughed out loud.
Now, Scalpel, over at Scalpel or Sword had a post this week about this subject. The title, I think, was Medical Student Tips - Using the Speculum. I read all kinds of comments about what docs can do to put the woman more at ease during this what can be an uncomfortable procedure. This doc obviously did not read Scalpels blog that day.
My gosh, I gave birth to two large children, the last one without medication of any kind. It's not like I am this 100% pure wimpy woman or anything, but that speculum was shoved in as if she were in some sick type of contest. Soon as that cold metal struck my tender flesh, I immediately thought about what I said in the comment section of Scalper or Sword on the subject. About how I would rather have paps than go to the dentist any day. Not sure I feel that way any more.
After the assult on my cervical os with that little steel wire brush, she hands off the speculum to the assistant in the room and sneaks her friggin ARM up my arse while putting her other arm in the ole Bojingo. I believe this is referred to as the rectovaginal component of the exam. Way too fancy sounding terminology for it if you ask me.
Maybe it’s my age, but I really don’t look forward to that next year, even if it was the most action that part of my anatomy has seen in a while.
I’ll go to my family doc from now on. He at least offers me a cigarette afterwards.
Now before ya'll go all fanatical on me, I HAVE been having pap smears, I’ve just been letting my primary physician do them. I went to the Gyn today because I’ve been having some funky pain and thought she might know more what’s going on “down there”.
Evidently in a five year period we can have enormous mental and/or emotional changes. Either that or the memory just goes straight to hell. I had completely forgotten what it was like to sit in the waiting room of an Ob/Gyn’s office. Everybody is so effing pregnant! If they’re not looking like they swallowed a watermelon, they’re pushing 10 pounds of screaming flesh around in a cart.
Speaking of carts, that’s something I have NEVER understood. That tiny baby weighs how much? 10 – 15 pounds? How frigging much does all that other apparatus weigh??? I have never understood why people drag all that crap around to tote their baby in when they could just…oh I don’t know…TOTE THE BABY!?!? Anywho, that’s a completely different rant. Back to all the preggos in the waiting room…
I am 47 years old. My ovaries probably ain’t spitting out nothing more than shriveled smelly eggs, but seeing all the preggos was very depressing for me. I couldn’t a bit more handle a baby now than I could perform brain surgery, but gosh my uterus just ached seeing all the cute little spitting machines and the lovely, sensual rounded bellies.
Just before the tears started, my name was called from back somewhere deep in the pits of hell. Then the assault began. I go back to the little room where they hand you the nice little “open in the front” paper robe. These come with little plastic belts to tie it closed. I am assuming it was a belt. It was lying there on top of the robe. It looked like what I floss my teeth with but hey, the world is not made for grown-up sized women is it? They also hand you this piece of paper “for your lap”. For my lap!?!?! Sh*!&... I know and they know and they know that I know that piece of paper was for covering my Bojingo. They know that cute little robe ain’t gonna cover all my junk.
So the doc comes in, all fast and seemingly in a hurry. She does a breast exam and is asking me questions the entire time. Then she says, “Ok. Put your little feet in the stirrups for me”. I’m sitting there thinking who the hell else is in this room, cause I KNOW she ain’t referring to my feet as little. Had she told me to slide my little ass to the edge, I would have laughed out loud.
Now, Scalpel, over at Scalpel or Sword had a post this week about this subject. The title, I think, was Medical Student Tips - Using the Speculum. I read all kinds of comments about what docs can do to put the woman more at ease during this what can be an uncomfortable procedure. This doc obviously did not read Scalpels blog that day.
My gosh, I gave birth to two large children, the last one without medication of any kind. It's not like I am this 100% pure wimpy woman or anything, but that speculum was shoved in as if she were in some sick type of contest. Soon as that cold metal struck my tender flesh, I immediately thought about what I said in the comment section of Scalper or Sword on the subject. About how I would rather have paps than go to the dentist any day. Not sure I feel that way any more.
After the assult on my cervical os with that little steel wire brush, she hands off the speculum to the assistant in the room and sneaks her friggin ARM up my arse while putting her other arm in the ole Bojingo. I believe this is referred to as the rectovaginal component of the exam. Way too fancy sounding terminology for it if you ask me.
Maybe it’s my age, but I really don’t look forward to that next year, even if it was the most action that part of my anatomy has seen in a while.
I’ll go to my family doc from now on. He at least offers me a cigarette afterwards.
4 comments:
Funny post. Some docs are definitely better than others!
You'd think a woman would be more sensitive about it! Although men might be afraid of hurting a woman.
I don't enjoy it at all either! But I would still rather so that than go to the dentist.
I hate going too! But I would still choose this over the denstist
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