Homecoming Post 9: Cry Me a Gyna- The Girl and the Gyno pt. 3

I was really cranky after the event on the yard on Friday. I was hungry, tired, and just wanted to sit down somewhere. Yet this task was proving to be impossible because three of my requested ride share rides had either left me or dropped the ride. They all claimed that they could not find the University Center. On top of this, my sad excuse for a smart phone kept dying. My anxiety was high and I wanted to scream. Just as I opened my mouth to let out an earth-shaking holler, Happy Face and her friend were about to walk right past me. 

"Hey!" I said excitedly to Happy Face. "You are a gynecologist, right?"

"Yes," she answered, sweetly. It was then that I let out a diarrhetic spew of the nightmare that has been trying to find a good gyno in Atlanta. I especially filled her in on this last experience where the doctor threw out the words endometrial cancer without so much as a PAP or blood draw. I told her how she wanted to put me under anesthesia and give me an IUD. 

After going on and on and on with a dead phone in my hand and no way back home, I took a breath and said, "I just did not feel heard."

She rubbed my back and said, "I'm sorry. I can see you."

I was so appreciative I could have thrown myself around her ankles. If I could have taken my gyna and put it in a bag for her to take back to her hotel room to investigate I would have. Running into her was great, especially since I asked my primary care for a referral a month ago and still have not heard back. 

This is also a huge deal because I have spent my adult life trying to dodge Xavier doctors and pharmacists. I know about HIPPA and all of that, but I just imagine that they all do a Zoom call weekly and talk about all the gross medical issues their Xavierite patients have. And it's not just me. I knew someone that went to the drug store to get a morning after pill, saw the pharmacist was from Xavier and ran out of the store. That would have been my response.

But I won't be running from Happy Face. Fingers crossed that my visit, like the others I have had, won't be a complete disaster. 

The Girl and the Gyno

I have to find a new gynecologist. 

This may not seem like a big deal, but when you are overweight with body image issues, past Pap trauma, and no money, it can be a bit of a challenge. It's not something that I wanted to do, so I have been putting it off. But today I woke up with it on my mind, so I went to the list of gyno's I found on Google weeks ago and began to call around for questions and quotes, my anxiety at an all-time high. 

The first time I called Dr. A, her receptionist hung up on me. We will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that it was a mistake. The second time I called I said hello and introduced myself for the receptionist to say in an annoyed voice, "Can you hold on?!" Before I could answer, she clicked over to another line, leaving me to listen to bad elevator music. I ultimately hung up before she could come back on the line, but waited a good while, hoping I would get the chance to yell, "Hey! Don't you know I am the daughter of a woman who ignored symptoms in her body until she literally dropped dead? I am trying to be proactive here biotch! How about a little compassion?!" That chance never came. I was tired of listening to scratchy Kenny G songs. 

I had a good feeling about Dr. B just looking at her name on my list. Her receptionist answered the phone after two rings, and her voice was bright and sunny. I thanked her for being so nice, because Dr. A's receptionist was rude. "Oh no! Rude already? It's too early in the morning!" My sentiments exactly. She and I chatted for a moment before she told me that the price of getting a Pap uninsured is $500. Sadly, I had to pass on that. 

Dr. C was a joke altogether.  First of all, she had that annoying phone system where you have to press 1 or 2 to get to speak to the person you need to speak to. I finally got to a receptionist that didn't sound rude, just overwhelmed. She put me on hold for so long that I ended up back on her line. She then forwarded me to a voicemail box that I am 98% sure never gets checked. 

By the end of it all, I found myself in the fetal position, panicked and anxious. How is it that we have little blue pills for men so that they can be 100 and sustain an erection, yet there is no at-home Pap test for well-meaning large women who just want some semblance of healthcare with no patience or money? I mean come on, where is science when you need her?!

I gave myself a break and streamed some TV before getting back on the horse, looking for someone to tend to my kitty. No luck today. Damn America's strict medical protocols. I am sure that in another country I could get this done by a med student for $20 in the backseat of their car. 

Gyno-oh-no

I have to go to the gynecologist next week for my annual exam. 

Maybe this would not be such a huge ordeal if I wasn't still traumatized from my last visit. WHAT A DISASTER! There were a lot of tears, a lot of anxiety, and a lot of stress. I don't even get why I even have to go. I don't get any action. The chances of my actually utilizing my box are about as slim as an anorexic White girl!  Not to mention that I almost killed myself trying to get on the examination table last time. It was so high! I had to run and jump to get on it and the damn thing almost flipped over on me! Can you imagine a more unfortunate way to die than getting smushed under an exam table while preparing for a routine pap?! I'd rather my family tell my friends that I was shot in a whore house raid. 

On top of the horror of it all, I am currently beefing with my gyno. A few weeks ago, I thought that I might be getting a yeast infection (TMI), and if you read my blog, you recall how mortifying my last one was. It was my first one ever, and I was hysterical! I know what you are thinking: you were 36, how is that possible? I had the same question. Since I had never had one, I thought somehow that I was immune to them. Spoiler alert: I'M NOT! Anywho, I mentally could not handle the melodrama of last year, so I called and asked the nurse at the gyno office to ask the doc to write me a prescription for a common yeast infection medication. Long story short, he said no. HE SAID NO! He said he wanted me to come in, even though I had just been in for blood work this summer and already had an upcoming appointment on the books. Then the nurse tells me that I can either come in or go to urgent care. URGENT CARE? Why would I do that if I have a f&*king gynecologist?! What am I, a commoner? The reason why I got a gynecologist with an address and a mailbox and a degree was so that I would not have to sit in a crowded urgent care room, silently praying over my crotch while being sneezed on by the COVID positive. Being told no by a man in this situation outraged me so much that I can't even explain it. 

When I think about arriving for my visit, I imagine being dragged into the office and across the carpet by a giant as I scream and claw at the floor. Winter is already an emotional landmine for me, I honestly can't take any more drama. We have come so far in science as a country, how is there no at-home pap test women can perform on themselves in the privacy of their homes? I could easily do mine as I caught up on reruns on Hulu. Ah, to wish on a star. 

I will keep yall posted on what will inevitably be another fine nightmare. Yay.