Monday, March 9, 2015

It's time for my annual "Well Woman" appointment. I can't be more thrilled.

Dear God in Heaven!  No matter how the name has been changed to comfort me over the years, there is no solace in what lies before me today; the dreaded annual OBGYN appointment.  Call it what you may, the "Well Woman Exam" or the "Healthy Female Physical"? WHATEVAH! It IS what it IS; an indignity and an intrusion of my most private, personal space. I would much prefer a root canal than what's scheduled to occur this afternoon.

Before I receive feedback on why these visits are critical for detecting serious health issues, please refrain - I GET IT; however, I'm allowed to detest the process in general. Just as men are permitted to squirm at the "turn your head and cough" test, we gals are free to abhor the sentence "this may be a wee bit uncomfortable" especially when the extremely cold and painful speculum is clamped into our vaginas.

Also, here's a few thoughts I'll place squarely on the examination table which I'm sure many women have considered but would probably never discuss on the Internet. I'm a blissfully free thinker.

I'm a blissfully FREE THINKER!

I believe it's extremely awkward when my doctor attempts idle chit chat while looking deeply into my lady parts. Normally, I'm not even on a first name basis with my gynaecologist so therefore I have no interest in discussing what I'm making for dinner or what my kids do for fun. Also, the moment my children are brought up, I get extremely tense. Imagine then, if you will, the increased pain that the before mentioned speculum then produces. Lovely. My thought is, NO TALKING. Just take the damn swab sample, get that horrible metal contraption out from between my legs and restore my dignity as soon as feasibly possible. Oh, and absolutely no eye contact afterwards. Thank you.

The breast check? Just no. My husband does it if not once a day, at least several times. If I have a lump, he'll be the first one to know, trust me. During one memorable appointment, an amazingly wise doctor, while giving me the boobie check said, "My, don't you have enormous breasts". Really? I never knew. Amazing she'd earned a doctorate with observations like this.

The privacy factor in these offices is always a slam dunk. No sooner am I standing bare ass naked, than they knock quickly, open the door despite my panicked, "NOT YET!" and watch as I scramble to mask myself with a paper towel just large enough to cover one breast. Outstanding.

The mammogram.  I have big girls. There's a plus and a negative to this situation. The negative is that I have to get this darn test more often than "average" sized ladies. Because there's more "ounce to the bounce" I'm more susceptible to breast cancer. On a positive a note, if I were for instance "mosquito bite" sized, the test in itself would be agony.  Being large breasted, my boobs are laid like pancakes on a plate and squished this a'way and a'that. Kind of like, well..kinky sex. Come on, don't squirm. I say it like it is.

So, I'm off to the most agonizing appointment of the year. Dear friends and blog readers, I ask that you wish for me a quiet doctor, more than the usual amount of privacy and for Pete's sake, a paper towel large enough to cover all my private parts just in case.