They All Look The Same

“They all look the same with various degrees of stretch.” Got your attention yet?

Yep, it was that day. The dreaded well-woman exam. Feeling fresh, squeaky clean and preparing myself mentally for the stirrups and kitchen tongs, out the door I went.

While in the waiting room I was texting a friend of mine who is a doctor. She tried to ease my mind by telling me “all vaginas look the same they just have various degrees of stretch.” It was at that moment that I knew I would have a story to write.

The nurse was exceptionally jovial. Her laugh so infectious. I made mention of that to her and she said most of the time people make fun of her laugh. That made me sad.

As she asked me the usual questions, I answered.

“Do you have anything you need to talk to the doctor about?” I’m sure she regretted that question but she really didn’t have a choice did she? Gotta love a captive audience.

“I do actually,” I giggled. I went on to explain my situation. “I feel hot out of nowhere sometimes. BAM! My ears will burn and I will start dripping sweat without any physical exertion. My skin feels like it is on fire. I want to plunge my body into a tub of ice when it happens. I have had people tell me what hot flashes feel like. If these are hot flashes, I don’t want any part of this crap!” She laughed that infectious laugh.

I added that I was in the hospital about six weeks ago for a cluster of cysts found on the only internal female part I have left. I told her that lil’ sucker better not fail me now. It’s puffing dust like the little engine that could but at least it is still intact. We forged ahead with more of her infectious laughter.

Temperature, blood pressure and list of medications. Then, she hands me the gown. I honestly didn’t think I would have to don this frock of beauty today. I don’t have anything  in there left to look at but a dust puffing ovary. Nice visual, agreed?

“Oh yes mam, you still get a pap smear every year, even if you’ve had a hysterectomy.” You can just imagine the elation in my heart at the words spoken. Preceding sentence, dripping with sarcasm.

“Everything off, open to the front, hop up on the table and cover yourself with the sheet.” Instead of hopping on the table, I pulled out the stirrups and did my dadgumest to figure out how to take a tasteful selfie. I kid you not, I really did. Stirrups don’t lend themselves to a good angle that really captures the moment.

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Instead I snapped the one you see before you!

In comes the doc as I am snapping my selfie. What do you say at this point? Thank God I was not trying to get the one in the stirrups. I can talk a blue streak but I don’t know what I would have said at that point.

Breast exam, check. That is always the easy part as long as the doc isn’t making small talk.

“Mrs. Peters please put your feet in the stirrups.” Yeehaw, and we’re off to the rodeo! “Nurse, spectrum please.” Um, don’t you mean clickity clacks? That’s what we call our BBQ tongs around here.

You know the routine, unless your a man. If you are a man reading this, more power to ya friend! Give me a shout. Then, go give your wife, girlfriend, sister or mom a hug. If none of those are doable, hug a random woman. Oh and then if you’re of age, make an appointment to get your prostate checked!

After “it” is all said and done, I never know whether to say thank you, how’s it look in there or just remain silent. Today I chose, “well, how’s in look in there?” The doc giggled. I don’t think he saw that one coming. By the way, he said “you’re one ovary is puffing dust, barley hanging on!” Just kidding, but wouldn’t that have been freaking hilarious if he did?

The after conversation always throws me for a loop.  Here I am, scantily clad in the ever so sexy blue gown, doing my best to keep the girls from popping out. You know the drill, unless of course you are a man. Hey, have you made that prostate exam appointment yet?

The after conversation ended with a “go to our lab and have your blood drawn, call this number for a follow up ultrasound of the little dust puffer,  and schedule your  mammogram.” Ok, I added of the little dust puffer. 

As lighthearted as I have been about this topic, it serves as a PSA. Get the girls checked and your pap smeared once a year. Pap smeared, I kill myself! Men of age, encourage your wife, sister, mom a random woman if you choose, to take preventative measures. Show your support by getting your ole prostate tickled.





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