Gynecology 101

You guys, I spent a whole 5 minutes on the internet today to trying to rustle up some awesomely funny pre-gynocologist visit rituals that we could all have a good chuckle over.  I need these, of course, to keep myself from dying a little inside every time I go.  So we can get on to the humor, let’s go ahead and get the usual Counting Chickens Standard Neuroses ™ out of the way:

I am horrified at the idea of the gynecologist.  I cry.  In that sad, almost silent, fat tears rolling uncontrollably down cheeks, way that makes doctors simultaneously tense and tiptoe-y.  If it’s our first time, they usually ask me if I have had “any bad experiences” and I don’t think they want to hear about the time I broke up with my girlfriend and she took my beloved salt and pepper pots.  If we’re lucky, I can pull myself together on the homestretch so that my eyes are dry enough to see the relief on their faces as they dart from the room.

I have a great doctor and in the past 5 years we’ve grown used to each other (as much as you can, of course, having met only 5 times).  It helps that D goes to the same person AND that the doc has a good memory which counts for extra I think.  Not that I’m exactly a forgettable patient.  I’m pretty sure my file has a giant red sharpie notation in it.  She is gentle, warm, upbeat and fast, which seriously, isn’t that all anyone wants?  She takes a holistic look at health and knows my regular doc well.  Together they are like the superheros of lady parts.  However, despite feeling favorable about this week’s visit, I still found myself out, buying new socks.

Oh come on.  I can’t be the only one.  I buy new, cute socks pre-visit so that they are sparklingly clean and charming*.  I used to lament the current trim of the hedges (too short, too long, god forbid there is RAZOR BURN!)* but this time around I took my kit and caboodle in there and slapped it onto the table in all of its in-between glory.  Now, the internet will promise you that she’s not there to check your wax job*, but since I also wash my hair before going to the stylist, I don’t think my basic personality is going to change.

I do think it’s funny that the same purveyors of advice that promise you that no one is looking at the…ahem…state of your affairs also recommend that you be “fresh”.  Come on man.  Let’s just make that a day-to-day priority.  The jury also remains out on vajazzling, labia dye – seriously, you have to click here and here if you’ve ever worried about your “lackluster labia”, anal bleaching (I’m pretty sure there’s no safe link for that) and other, awesome, inventions that make us look less like ourselves all together.  And seriously guys, who wants rhinestones stuck between their teeth?

Although there’s a dearth of “gynecologist superstitions” or “rituals” or “prep tips” that are funny, there is plenty of advice preparing the first timer for the stirrups.  I only hope my wife and I can do as good a job as some of these sites do in preparing RR.  Things my 16…er…18yr-old self would have liked to have known:

  • They will not walk in on you until you get your gown on.  You do not have to fall over yourself like a three-legged puppy trying to get to the squeaky toy trying to tuck your carefully picked panties into your pants pocket.
  • There will be a gown and either a folded paper sheet or some other unspecified covering.  You wear the gown.  If you don’t know whether it should open to the back or the front, ask.  They should have told you.  Every office does it differently.
  • That weird fabric thing, paper thing, or extra gown goes over your knees.  It isn’t to sit on or wrap around yourself.  It’s going to be the primary drape once things get going but until the doctor comes in, consider it a modesty patch.
  • You get to leave your socks on.
  • Take a pantiliner.  Some doctors (not mine, thank goodness) get a little crazy with the lube, bless their hearts, and you might have a little slippage as you walk out.
  • Don’t panic if normally clothed parts of you see fresh air.  Think of it as making sure your gear is in perfect condition.  The small injustice is worth it.
  • If you have questions, ask them the second there’s a lull.  Ideally, she’ll ask if you have questions but, since some folks are wham bam thank you ma’am, you should grab the bull by the horns.  You’re paying for them to do this shit to you.  If you want to ask about a bump, a lump, a smell, a swell you ask the shit out of those questions.

Bottom line.  It’s over until next November when I hope there will be more blog posts about the awesome things people do to get ready for their appointments.

PS – I know that pap smears are recommended every three years for your average citizen but, having had a scare a few years ago, I am now part of the Pap Smear Every Year! club.  Best thing that ever happened to me.

PPS – Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor.

PPPS – If you have ever been in a fertility clinic or OB’s office, you have clearly transcended this entire post.  Go on, you awesome being of light, go on.

And I didn’t forget the *!

*Your gynecologist does not care.  She doesn’t remember what your business looks like.  She does not have an opinion of your trim job.  Further, she doesn’t remember what your labia looked like after you walk out the door.  She looks at vaginas and cervixes and breasts all day long.  She’s looking for STDs and cancer, big bad serious things, not stupid lame things like razor burn and the nipple piercing that you had because it thought it looked cool until it started growing out and then you went surfing and the waves ripped it out and then it healed over with an odd scar even though it looks perfect otherwise and I wouldn’t know anything about that.  Okay?  She doesn’t care.

Advertisements

16 Responses

  1. You have made my day. Hope the visit went well.

  2. Oh, and I always treat myself to ice cream or pastry after a visit to the gyn.

  3. 11 internal ultrasounds, an HSG and an IUI into the world of fertility clinics, and I still worry about all of these things. Though have not vagazzled. Yet.

    • I’m actually quite comforted by that. It puts to rest my theory that going more frequently would somehow render me immune. Also, vajazzling. Try it and report back!!

  4. 1. My Missus missed a Pap, tomorrow she goes to get part of her cervix removed 😦 GO TO THE DOCTOR, GIRLS!

    2. My ex Missus Vagazzled (not while I was in her company, I assure you.) Vagazzle is an Essex term, how on earth do you know that word!? 😉

    3. Seriously? The nipple/wave story?

    • Dude. I do NOT want to lose any portion of my cervix. Ouch 😦 Here’s hoping she’s up and about soon! Also, we have fully captured ‘vajazzled’ (with J typically) into our lexicon. With thanks, of course, to our former overlords 😉

  5. This post was the highlight of my day.

  6. I have bumped into mine at the gym and (gasp!) cocktail parties. He would attempt to make small talk during my exam. Imagine how freaking happy I was when my primary doctor said she could give me my pap during my regular annual physical, which saves me a fat ‘specialist’ co-pay and means I am not subjected to feeling like I need to make cocktail party small talk.

    • I don’t even know what I’d say though, frankly, it’s likely given the size of the town. I suppose I’d say hi and then surreptitiously cross my legs as I sidle off 😉

  7. Hilarious! I *dread* going to my midwife, even though she’s very nice.

  8. My doc is an OBGYN married to another OBGYN, and he might be the only male doctor in the world that I don’t mind messing around with my ladybits. He removed part of my cervix a few years back and was great through the entire process. Is it sad that I actually miss him when I’m overseas and get my annual exam from the RMO?

    • No! I love my primary care doc so much that it’s actually a consideration when I consider moving out of town/state. Believe me, leaving her will be much harder than leaving…well, anything else.

  9. Hahahahaha! This post totally made my day. I hope you reward yourself adequately afterward for your bravery!

    I don’t know if this is an urban legend, as it happened to a “friend” of a friend. This young woman is going to the lady doctor and right before she leaves for her appointment, she randomly grabs some eau de cologne and liberally spritzes her lady bits. When the doctor gets to her nethers, he says “Fancy.” She has no idea what he’s talking about until she gets home and realizes that she’d accidentally spritzed herself with body glitter. Even if this story is made up, I always think about it before my lady doctor appointments – I figure so long as I don’t have glitter all up in my cooch, it’s all good.

  10. At this point in my life, I wonder why they bother to leave the room while you undress. I mean, it’s not like they’re not about to see it all anyway. I was never terribly physically modest (not that I think I’m an exhibitionist, just that I don’t freak out about nakedness in general) to start with, but now… In addition to my usual check-ups, I’ve actually lost count of the number of ultrasounds I’ve had, plus seven IUIs, a surgical procedure that I think everybody in the OB/Gyn office crowded in to watch, a miscarriage, complete with d&c, and of course, Women’s Physical Therapy, wherein you spend some serious amounts of time with someone else’s fingers up your hoo ha. I am now totally comfortable casually conversing with people while their hands are in what’s generally considered to be a personal area. It’s a wonder I even bother to wear pants any more.

    But, to each her own. And I’m glad your visit went well, or as well as such things can be expected to go.

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: