More About My Doc’s Appointment

First of all, this is probably TMI for many, so if you want to skip this post, feel free! As mentioned yesterday, I had a doctor’s appointment for a “well-woman” exam, what I also call the “annual poke and prod”. Well, not so annual. Given my insurance status for the last few years (i.e. none), and my natural reluctance to let someone who knows absolutely zero about me or my life other than the fact that I have an anatomically human body tell me ANYTHING about myself, it’s been a while since I’ve been to a doctor for anything. That, and the fact that I’m just pretty damn healthy for an OFB (Old, Fat Broad). BUT, I know G. has been concerned about my health, and now that I can qualify for the county health care, AND when the doc who looked at my foot said the county had this grant to offer these exams, well, I said okay, I’d do it.
So.
There I was, in the exam room, waiting for the doc. As described below, wrapped discreetly in paper towels. I’d already had to get dressed again because I had to pee, and the doc wasn’t there yet. That’s the disadvantage of arriving anywhere early, the urge to pee almost always takes over. Anyway, back to my seat, and reading my book. Finally, the awaited knock at the door. So, here comes the doctor, the nurse, and she has a medical student with her (female). And the room is pretty tiny, so they’re all milling about, trying not to stumble over each other while getting everything ready for “the exam”. I like this doc–I had seen her before a few years ago when I was working part time and again qualified for county care. The med student is extremely pleasant, introduces herself, shakes my hand, etc. Pretty soon, they’re all ready, they adjust the table and utter those timeless words, “Scoot down!”
Having scooted into position, I lie back and think of the Queen. Then I hear this odd kind of sliding and snapping noise, and look up to see all three of them putting on their rubber (well, they’re not rubber anymore, but you know what I mean) gloves in chorus. I have to say, it was pretty damn funny. And I said, “Hey’s where are MY gloves, I’m feeling left out here!” Ha! I crack me up–and them, too, ’cause they all broke out laughing.
Point–it’s a lot easier to get a pelvic exam when you’re in a good mood. Endorphins rule!
So, it’s all done, and I await the results of testing.
Next up…the boob grab and smash….
The joys of being a woman…….
GG
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