Thursday, August 19, 2010
It's tradition that I blog about my annual visit to the doctor to get checked under the hood, as MathMan likes to say. I do this to show solidarity with my fellow females who also should be going for this slightly messy, slightly embarrassing and very important annual check up. I also like to remind the males here that the whole turn your head and cough thing? Cakewalk.
And we all have rectums so there's nothing to argue about there.
I'm a bit chagrined to tell you that I'm two months late with this annual visit and I still have it to look forward to on Monday. Until then, I will just have to revel in the sweet anticipation of getting felt up, mashed, starved, finger-banged and sucked of my blood. That sounds like a fetish menu, doesn't it?
Here's some good news along the lines of credit where credit is due - I am now IUD free. Once the insurance was sorted, the doc's office made an appointment right away et voila! Today's visit wasn't with cute-boy doctor J with whom I normally visit. This procedure was handled by the more seasoned Dr. Dubya. Yeah. I am convinced that there is not a single liberal doctor in this town so I'm stuck. This is the practice where I once got into it with the front desk staff because she refused my request to turn down the volume or turn off the TV blaring Fox News. I was the only patient in the waiting room at the time.
I'm certain that the choice of channels isn't so much to entertain or inform that patients. It's a political statement. But what's a chick to do? Drive an hour plus to Atlanta to show her vagina to strangers? Not unless I'm getting free drinks and big tips, my friends.
Even so, I try to be pleasant. Our conversations go something like this:
Him staring into the abyss: "So I see your uterus has dropped a little more."
Me: "Really? Wonderful. I still can't afford the copay for surgery to have things removed and rejuvenated."
Him: "Well, just try not to sneeze or cough too much. Or laugh. I guess I won't tell you anymore Obama jokes."
Me: "Well there's the silver lining. Tell me, though, if something does happen, will it look like a bowling ball falling out of me or what?"
Him: "More like a tennis ball. Smaller than that even."
Me: "Fine. I assume you'd like me to just tuck it back in and call for an appointment."
Him: "Only after you've washed your hands."
Me: "Well, of course, I'm not going to go stuffing my uterus back into my vagina with a pair of dirty paws."
Him: "I meant you can wait until after you've washed your hands to call for an appointment."
Me: "Why don't you go back to the Obama jokes."
Him: "By the way, I like what you've done with the landscaping."
Me: "Oh, I thought you'd like that."
Him: "Yes, the landing strip is so 1998."
Me: "Agreed. And a nuisance to maintain."
Him: "So how did you get it to look like that?"
Me: "The Fox News logo? There's a template for it on their website."
Him: "You're kidding!"
Me: "Yes, I'm kidding."