[/caption]WARNING: Mom, this post contains information on my sexuality and descriptions of a gynecological nature, you might not want to read it!!
After much debate and weighing of various pros and cons, I have decided that it’s time to get back on the birth control. One of many recent steps taken to help me be a “responsible adult” or whatever, when it comes to my sexual liberties as a newly single person. As Dude and I were trying for the last 2 years to have another pink headed potato, I wasn't too worried while we were married. After him, all of my partners have been women until rather recently, so this hasn’t been an issue.
Lately though, one thing has led to another and if I'm not a bit more careful, someone is going to end up with a potato they didn’t plan for. Since that’s how I wound up with the first one, I’ve decided to go ahead and exercise my right to easily obtainable birth control and head down to the local clinic to have my IUD put back in.
My gyno up and moved her practice to Seattle leaving me in the hands of the local not for profit sector and I was feeling a little nervous. I haven’t been to a gynecologist in sometime, about 2 years if I remember correctly. I haven’t been to the local Planned Parenthood since I was but a youthful college tramp, so this was going to be something of an adventure for me. Upon walking in I was greeted with the usual mishmash of progressive college students, unwed and possibly wed mothers, broke ass mothers to be, and terrified looking teens. I slid my ID under the bullet proof glass and was buzzed in once it was determined that I did not carry with me a pipe bomb or photo of a dead baby.
When I was called back to the sterile room I was asked a slew of pre-established questions regarding my visit today.
“Have you ever had an STD?” the earnest young CNA asks
“Does pregnancy count?” I chuckle
“No.” she is un-amused.
“Oh, umm then no” my joke going unappreciated
“Do you have any of the following types of sex 1) Oral 2) Vaginal 3) Anal?”
“Uhhhhh….(answer removed in case my mother decides to read this)”
“Do you sleep with 1) Men 2) Women 3) Both?”
“Both….” *starting to feel rather sheepish
"What are you currently using for birth control?"
"Um, well nothing actually"
"Nothing?" *insert quizzical look*
"Well, my husband and I...and then...umm, yeah, nothing" she shakes her head, makes a check, and moves on.
“Are you in a committed relationship?”
“Well that’s rather complicated, I’m going through a divorce and I live with this Vulcan but….”
“Yes or No please”
“Okay…no”
"Are you sexually active?"
"Define *active*"
"Are you having sex with one or more people?"
"Well, yeah...usually just one at a time...heh heh..." another joke goes unappreciated
“You’re getting divorced?”
“Yeah”
“Did he ever abuse you, 1) physically 2) emotionally 3) sexually?”
“Not officially I suppose…but you know it’s…”
“1, 2 or 3 ma’am”
“Uh, no then I guess”
“Have you ever been raped or sexually mistreated in any way?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Here is the number for the local sexual and domestic violence support groups please call if you have any questions concerns or thoughts of suicide. Please strip, put on the gown open to the front and drape the paper over your legs.”
Somehow I had managed to let a complete stranger into the inner workings of my insane lifestyle and sexual indecision, my sordid past, and my uncertain future all using form questions and without once looking me in the eye. I was feeling a smidge exposed and I wasn’t even wearing the paper shrug yet.
For a clinic that purports to be inclusive of all women, they do NOT make paper shrugs for the “full figured” lady of today, I can tell you that much. Desperately clinging to what little modesty I have, I attempt to close the thing over my breasts only to rip it and create an even bigger gap with which to expose myself. I opt instead to pull the paper drape a little higher and hope for the best.
Once I was adequately covered by itchy paper the worlds oldest Nurse practitioner walked into the room. This woman must have been scoping cervix's with stone tools at the dawn of gynaecology. She proceeded to work her way through the same list of exceptionally personal questions the CNA went through, this time with slightly more detail requested, but still using the 1,2,3 system and once again refusing to acknowledge my witticisms. Once I had given her the name of every person I’d ever slept with, their bank account numbers and names of their first pets we were ready to move on to the health history portion of the quiz.
Apparently, I am fat. So that’s been established now. She took a look at my BMI and habits; something she said was new, and was apparently was not an issue back when dinosaurs got pap smears. Now, I’m used to doctors telling me to lose weight and quit smoking, it is not the first time that a doctor has looked at me like a complete idiot when I tell them that I still, even in the age of almost $9.00 a pack, and a widely accepted link between my favorite habit and crippling cancer, smoke cigarettes. However, the look that Doctor Grandma Moses shot me, when I told her not only that this was NOT the heaviest I have ever been, and that yes indeed, I do smoke about half a pack of cigarettes a day, will forever be burned into my skull. I could have told her that I have been humping the devil himself and I don’t think she would have looked half as horrified.
After promising to continue losing weight and give up the cancer sticks, she was finally ready to inspect my nether regions and prep me for the eventual temporary sterilization I have requested. I realize has she's prepping the tools that I had forgotten to shave my legs, which is for whatever reason, more embarrassing to me than all of the other questions I was forced to answer combined. After a muffled apology, and wondering why they decided octopus gloves with tiny eyeballs were the appropriate stirrup covering apparatus, I was able to calm down and let her do her thing.
The rest of the visit went routinely, despite my rampant sluttiness and disgusting personal habits, apparently my cervix is just ducky, so that’s good to know. I go in next week to see the Cro-magnon gynecologist and get my IUD inserted. Hopefully they will have my fascinating sexual history neatly filled in on the form so I don't have to repeat the sordid facts of my past. I suppose if nothing else it will make for another amusing blog post!
2 comments:
If you went to the same Planned Parenthood I regularly go to (which I think you did) they only ask these questions once a year--so better than every exam, but worse than just once. They made me do both a pap smear and an STD test before I got my IUD put in and the had to be within three months of the insertion. Sometimes I think they're out to get my money, but then I realize that I get a lot of their services for mondo cheap because of the sliding scale thing they have going. It could be worse, I guess.
oh it could absolutely be worse and I love PP for all of the good it does helping women. Especially at risk women. I really have nothing bad to say about their programs, just their complete lack of stirrup side manner.
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