Friday, January 22, 2010


*WARNING. IF YOU ARE EASILY GROSSED OUT OR OFFENDED, DO NOT READ THIS*. Wait a second.....if you are easily grossed out or offended I have no earthly idea what you're doing here. Dad, you may want to sit this one out. And yes, my father reads Deep Thoughts and yes, he is very proud. Or so he tells me. Alrighty, here we go! I get to the doctor's office, everything is routine at check-in, no biggie. I was surprised that my blood pressure was normal as I was just a wee bit agitated. Oh, and speaking of wee, I manged to pee in a cup just fine. Weight was a non-event. So I go into the exam room, get completely undressed as instructed. Thought briefly about NOT putting on hospital gown and just sitting there buck naked 'cause it would be funny. Thought better of it. Put hospital gown on. Checked out all the stuff they're going to use during the exam which they leave out for your kind consideration. "Hmmmm....wonder where they are going to stick THAT?" Waiting, waiting, getting more nervous, waiting, looking at charts of "Female Reproductive System", waiting......knock, knock, knock. What are you gonna say? "Don't come in, I'm doing the dishes?" Christ. So nurse practitioner makes the small talk they teach medical professionals to do to put your quaking ass at ease. I'm 42 years old. I've had at LEAST 20 pelvic exams. Doesn't matter and doesn't make it anymore enjoyable or any less terrifying. Blah, blah, blah, talk, talk, talk. Okay so the breast exam commences. Any discharge? WHAT!? Uh, HELL NO! Gross! The very idea of breast feeding my own child grossed me out (again, no angry letters please) so I can't imagine what my reaction to "discharge" would be. Gag. Then comes the classic and aforementioned, "Scoot your bum forward a little more" so you know what's coming next. Drawer opens, out comes speculum (they don't leave THAT out as you would run out of the room screaming if you had to contemplate it for too long while waiting), in goes speculum, some poking around ensues. That's all well and good. What was NOT at all good was the fact that as she uncranked said device of medieval torture part of my whatever the hell that is in there got pinched. Now, I've been known to be stoic in the face of pain but I think it's the female equivalent of a guy getting his JT zipped up in his pants. Not good. So that didn't go well. The only redeeming fact was that it initially seemed that I had escaped the shocker. I was about to get up when she says, "'re over forty" and out comes rubber glove numero dos. Whatever. What really pissed me off is that my regular doctor has been "shocking" me since I was 27!!!! WHAT THE HELL???? If I didn't NEED to be "shocked" until I was 40, why in God's name has she been doing it all this time?  I feel violated. And cheap. Is it cocktail hour yet? If it's not, it is now. 


  1. I say 'ban the lorrayous'! Fecking car drivers... *I* should hurry to get out of *your* way when *you*, plainly, are sitting comfy in your heated vehicle while I'm skating over an icy road with two bags of messages?! You can bloody well wait! And my man's frantically clearing the street of a dropped-off-the-bike-and-broken beercrate while you EDGE AROUND HIM... to get to your DOOR? You couldn't wait?! I reiterate... 'BAN THE LORROYOUS'
    Caroline (jealous she can't drive AT ALL).
    Great post Mollie.

  2. oh, that was meant for the NEXT blog wahahahahahahaha can we delete and repaste? I don't know how to :)))