Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Lady Godiva

Today was that fun time that every woman hates, going to see her gynecologist.  Mine is a cool dude that I happened upon by accident, so I don't mind it as much.   Okay, who am I kidding, it still sucks.  

Before I get to that though, I was a few minutes early and walked into my bank next door to pick up some deposit slips because I like to keep some on hand.  It was completely empty except for the employees, who all greeted me like a long-lost friend, even though I haven't been in that branch in years.   The teller yelled across the lobby to ask if I had valeted my car.  Umm, what?  I was all, you talking to me?  She said that they had started a new policy that all customers get free valet parking.  Now, that I thought about it, there was a friendly man at the edge of the building who said hi.  I just thought it was my sparkling personality.  Or my hair.

I walked to the counter in the middle to find deposit slips but none was there.  The teller then said they keep them behind the counter because no one uses them anymore.  It's true that I haven't been in to do a deposit in a while because everything is electronic these days, but some people still use physical checks.  Like fkn AT&T.  Sigh.  They mailed me a $13 credit when I switched from DSL.  Which I forgot to bring with me because I forgot the bank was even there.

The teller went on to inform me that I could just take a picture of my check and do it all by app on my phone.  I declined to discuss the security ramifications with her and thanked her for letting me know.

On to the dreaded GYN.  Somehow the stars were all in alignment, because I was in and out of there in under 30 minutes.  That NEVER happens.  The receptionist was very efficient and had me review a printout of my info to see what had changed.  She seemed surprised when I deleted my home phone.  I thought I was the last living soul to go without a landline.  She confirmed with me three times.  Then she asked my religion.  Umm, what?  I said none, why.  And she goes on to tell me that different diagnoses can be affected by different religions in different locales.  Umm, what?   I didn't ask her to elaborate, although she seemed happy to because she found it fascinating.  

The nurse was already calling me in before I even sat back down.  That NEVER happens.  She weighed me with shoes on but subtracted 3 lbs, even though I'm pretty sure they aren't that heavy.  They were my comfy lesbian shoes, so maybe she added another pound due to lack of fashion.  I think she came up with a negative weight at that point.  She kept pushing the sliding scale thingie to the left.  And more.  And more.  Then she asked me how tall I am, even though there's a height measuring device RIGHT there.  And she underestimated me by at least an inch.  Everyone always tells me I'm more or less than I am.  I think my lack of weight threw her off.  In my defense, I haven't worked out in close to a month, so my muscles have all evaporated.

Next it was time for the exam.  Undress, put on this scrap of material, and keep sliding down.  And more.  And more.  Lucky me, I had a med student observing.  Sigh.  My doc gave a running narrative, which was equal parts interesting and mortifying.  I went to my happy place.  Yay, for no issues.  About fkn time, right??  (For those keeping score, my vision still hasn't returned to where it was before my eye surgery.)

He and I had a nice discussion on which was worse, him or the dentist.  We also chatted about the merits (or lack thereof) of mammograms and the likelihood he might persuade me to have one.  I told him that he was welcome to write me the Rx for one, but it would go straight into my shredder.  He laughed and said the nurse already had and left it for me.  We also spoke of the effects of hormones on migraines and the latest research on that.

I think gynecologists spend so much time around naked women that they forget we might not be as comfortable as they are about it.  This isn't the first one to have a long chat with me, while I'm wearing the equivalent of a paper towel.  I appreciate their time and knowledge, and I may be the type to ask a question or 75, so it's not generally a quick rap session with me.  Whatever, I have a lot of hair, I can go all Lady Godiva on them.  Without the horse, of course, because that would be weird.  And crowded.

He shook my hand, twice, which I bravely clasped, twice, even though I know where it's been.  Especially since he described it in detail.

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