Tuesday, January 19, 2010

1 part vodka, 1 part...

Cranberry juice.
As if it didn't taste enough like fruity bile to begin with, it's even more pungent coming up than it is going down. I can't drink anymore of that stuff. Seriously, I cannot drink anymore of this stuff, I'm about to throw up.

***Edit: if you're easily offended, squeamish, or a guy who just doesn't want to know, you could stop reading now.

Today I saw the lady doctor (pause for the cheers).
No cheers? Fine, moving on.

To start my appointment, I climbed 3 flights of stairs in the wrong building to get to a receptionist who promptly said "Oh hey, I know you" as she was checking on which office I was supposed to report to for my digital probing. Good to see you sister's friend from high school. No, I don't have an STD, thank you very much.

Back out into the rain to drive across to the other building, I'm now 15 minutes late, like I am to every appointment. Walking through the halls with my wet tennis shoes, I sounded like someone was choking a duck; it was like an announcment to the rest of the hospital:
Quack (hi everyone, I'm on the women's health floor), Squeek (wonder what's wrong with that girl's vajay?),
Quack (don't see a ring, must be a single mom)...

As I arrive at the front desk to check in, there's a young girl in a wheelchair, an old guy, and some lady that looks like that woman on TV who has the 19 kids. The old guy, who is not actually someone's grandpa (who also coincidentally looks like my college Geology professor that failed me twice, I never liked him), is now at the counter yelling at the receptionist about the unreliability of computers in this age and demanding to talk to the administration. I'm 28 years old, I haven't thrown a temper tantrum since I was in the single digits, but with my nether regions tingling and burning and the urge to pee again for the second time in 10 minutes, I couldn't resist throwing myself down in the waiting room bench and muttering something about old guys having something stuck in their asses having to go to the gynocologist to get it out. At one point, I actually pointed at the sign above my head and said "this is women's health, not old guy health." Mature, I know.

"It's a UTI" I tell the nurse as I sit down for my vitals. Apparently being the only one not in scrubs, I wans't allowed to say something so bold, she looked at me like I told her I had an arm growing out of my head. Now, UTI is not related to Devry institute, it is not where college drop outs go to learn how to calibrate a speedometer. It's the nice way of saying, IT BURNS WHEN I PEE!!! IT BURNS!!!

After the next gauntlet of questions where I didn't know if I was describing a wheel of cheese or my anatomy, I was directed down the hall to give a urine sample. I've given a lot of these samples for one reason or another and no matter what I do, I always piss on my hand. Deciding to try a different approach for the first time in my adult life, I dropped trau and got into a position that could only be compared to something you'd find on a football field. I was waiting for a hot QB to tap my ass and tell me to snap the ball, or whatever you call it in football terms. You would think after having to pee 24/7 for the last 5 days, I could eek out enough for a test strip, no. Not right now. As I squatted like a linebacker wishing myself to dribble just a little into that cup, I took one glance down at my pants and instalty heard..."pants on the grounds, pant on the ground, looking like a fool with your pants on the ground.." Thanks General Larry, thanks. Maybe you can make a sequel..."piss on your hand, piss on your hand, smelling like a bum with some piss on your hand."

Handing me the blue tarp of nudity, the nurse tells me to get undressed and wait for the doctor. Easy enough, but then I got to my socks and paused...do I leave them on? Do I take them off? Is it weird to just have socks on when you're bottomless in stirrups? I hope these socks don't smell like wet tennis shoe...just a whole conversation with half nude self in the middle of the afternooon.

My OBGYN is an older lady who is a Vegan, has natural greyish, wirey hair, wire rimmed glasses, natural stone jewelry, who always wears layers or a long dress, and looks like she could be someone's grandmother or hippie aunt. Talking to your grandmother about your sex life is not cool. Talking to your grandmother about your recent lack of sex life is even less cool. Granted its the middle of the winter and I spent the beginning of this year in a freezing car driving across the country, I will admit that the bush could use some trimming nonetheless. The landing strip could use clearing. The crops could use some harvesting. When my gyno-grandmother asked me if I was currently active, I wanted to tell her to look at the amazon and decide for herself. There's no way I would subject a man to that. Not even George of the Jungle.

It was at the point, as the tarp lifted and the speculum came out, that the doctor and nurse launced into a conversation about their kids in college and mandatory tight wearing in Pilates classes, that I decided I would rather be in a gang bang than be in that room. Honestly, the conversation would be less involved and I wouldn't feel an awkward need to make conversation to distract from the situation at hand. Really, I probably wouldn't even have the ability to talk at all which would make it that much easier to deal with.

Diagnosis: "it's a UTI" says the nurse. "Yeah, that's what I thought, thanks," as I left the office and headed for the elevator to pick up my prescription.

Quack (she's leaving the gyno floor),
Squeek (wonder if she's got something contagious?),
Quack (she's headed towards the pharmacy, must be a good one)
Quack, quack, quack.....

11 comments:

  1. I'm sorry but I had to lauch through the entire post :-)
    Don't you US ladies go tot the ladies doctor once a year for a check up? Because you really make that sound like it's a place you go yo only in case of pregnancy or STD!

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  2. No, we do, we're still very much the Western world. I'm just being dramatic...you know me. :)

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  3. In fact...I get to go again at the end of the year. :)

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  4. The bush could use a trimming??? Oh geez.... Front butt Rita here she comes!

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  5. Doll, I want you to know that I thought of you when I wrote that...leaves rustling. Yup.

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  6. That is the funniest thing I've read in forever- I had to read it twice since I was laughing too hard the first time to catch it all ;)

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  7. WOW! So im not the only one who has all those thoughts running through my head at the "lady doctor" haha. I needed a good laugh today girl!! Too funny!

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  8. Oh - I'm so sorry! Bladder infections hurt like the devil. . . to the point you don't know whether it hurts more to pee or to not pee. Hope the antibiotics send relief PRONTO.

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  9. This just brought back a conversation with a male OB-Gyn years ago, before cell phone days. He was complaining that his pager always went off halfway between home and the hospital, so he never knew whether to try to detour and find a phone or keep driving and phone from his office (he was a prof of OB-Gyn at Georgetown U Med School). What bothered him was that he'd change his route, find a phone, then discover that his patient "only had a yeast infection." I looked him in the eye and said, "That's the trouble with male gyns. It's obvious you've never had a yeast infection. It makes you feel like your vagina is on fire and there's no way you can think about anything else. So don't say 'just a yeast infection' to any self-respecting woman if you want to keep your manhood intact." I hope it made a difference, but who knows?

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  10. I'll remember this next time I visit my man doctor and he wants to stick his finger up my kazoo. Us guys have it easy.

    (I had to come back and edit this - my word verification was: rearmate. I'm not kidding.)

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  11. i laughed so hard that i did pee in my pants a little bit. this is the funniest damn thing i have ever heard. i swear to you ... you are dead meat. one time, i was kinda attracted to this guy but i had a bush. and i just told him, hey, it's like a jungle down there. he took his chances and actually made the tarzan sound when he saw it. fuck it. it's his funeral, dude. same goes for the gyno. no $80 wax for the UTI, vaginitis, pap, clap, or slap (QB reference - will be stuck with me forever.)

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