Let me just say this: I have come to the conclusion that quality feminine health care is just not in the cards for me. By the time I am 40, I will be carrying my vagina in a freezer bag in my purse. Three weeks ago, I was excited about the new gynecologist I had been referred to. Today, I find myself Googling how to perform my own hysterectomy/oophorectomy at home. This is my story.
Those of you who know me know that my gynecologist visits are not like that of the average bear. They are very emo and exhausting and tiring. There will be guaranteed tears, no matter how much I pray beforehand. However, I tried to be optimistic about my upcoming visit. I decided to make the change from my last doctor. His exam tables were high, and I nearly disconnected my hip trying to get on them. My last visit to him was so Stephen King that we both walked away visibly shaken. So, as much as I loved the nurses at his practice, I decided to find someone else. My primary care doctor gave me a referral, and I had high hopes for my next exam. That was my first mistake.
The office is in one of those shiny high-rise buildings with a security guard at the front entrance. I took the elevator to the office, and it was very much like a gyno office that you would see in a movie. The furniture was gorgeous and sparkly! It was like I was in Gyno Heaven! That didn't stop my anxiety from going through the roof as I waited for my appointment.
By the time I got to the nurse to get my blood pressure taken, I was already in slow, quiet tears. I was so amped up inside that she couldn't get an accurate reading. Big surprise. So, she dumped me in an exam room and said that she would be right back. We all know that that was a lie. When doctors or nurses leave the room, it's a wrap. You are lucky not to be old and gray when they return. But the nurse did return and began asking me those stupid visit questions that have nothing to do with anything. She seemed nice, and I didn't want to get an attitude with her. But if she asked me one more stupid question about my hobbies, I was going to throw my wallet at her head!
She could tell I was agitated and ended the questionnaire early. She handed me some Kleenex and left the room again. When she returned, she said we were switching rooms, and when I walked into the new room I gasped. It was a room with a low, fat girl friendly exam table! I couldn't believe my eyes! Two years of playing exam room double Dutch with my old gyno's exam tables and there was such a thing as a fat girl exam table?! I was in shock, and in a good way.
This visit may go well, I said to myself.
WRONG! Moments later, I underwent a Pap test that would have made Wes Craven nervous. Well, sort of.
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