I overslept the alarm clock this morning and only managed to get about a half a cup of coffee in me before running off late to my scheduled pap smear.
Coffee is a fantastic thing to wake up to…a pap smear is not. If you ever have to choose, go with coffee.
When I arrived, the nurse told me that a new midwife/nurse practitioner was being trained and familiarized…and would I mind if she stepped in with my doctor to ‘observe’ the procedure.
My …stuff… generally prefers an audience or participant of one; but I made the deal that as long as she was in fact a medical practitioner - and not a curious relative of the doctor looking for something to do that day - it would be fine.
I was left to strip from the waist down to the ankles. You want to leave your socks on because the floor is always freezing. I don’t care if your doctor’s office is on the sun…the floor is cold. And if the floor isn’t cold, the metal stirrups are. My doctor tries to be cute about this by putting little cloth coverlets over the stirrups; they have flowers on them and everything. It’s not fooling anyone. Once you get your feet in them and your legs are forcibly bent into the flailing cricket position, you are not flowery and dainty. Nor are you cool. Any pretense of being cool gets left in the waiting room. Even Joan Jett would look awkward in this position. You’d be wondering where she lay her band uniform and trombone.
My doctor enters and introduces the new girl – who smiles at me nervously…much like a stranger brought to your party by the person you invited.
After assuming the position, and with my ‘party’ prepped and ready to go, the doctor begins the overture of the speculum…and I rediscover that I could actually walk on my ass cheeks if my legs were broken.
After what seems like the more than usual amount of prodding, my doctor says, "Huh. Your cervix is hiding from me."
("It’s scared," I think to myself.)
Out loud I say "Yes; it’s shy…" then I tip a glance to the still nervously smiling midwife/nurse practitioner and add "…I guess it has stage fright."
My doctor issues a half-hearted snicker – the kind that comes from someone who hears uncomfortable jokes all day long…because the situation pretty much demands it.
(It occurs to me then that my doctor – who has never had trouble locating my cervix before – might be fumbling a little from the pressure of demonstration. "What a weird situation to want to show off in" I think.)
10 seconds later, the whole ordeal is over and my doctor takes our new friend and my sample and leaves me to clean up and put my pants back on.
I walk out feeling like someone should give me something pretty…the way you do when your fun bits have been medically handled. I come within an inch of demanding a lollipop every time.
But I do have work to look forward to.
