Thursday, February 7, 2013

The Vagina Elevator


           Yesterday I had a gynecologist appointment and I realized for the first time how weird and awkward annuals are.
I’ve gone to this same doctor since I was probably 15 - about four years. But today the assistant lady stepped out for a minute and I had to make conversation with my doctor until she got back.
To be perfectly clear, I have an awesome gynecologist. Some girls feel weird about having a male doctor look at their lady bits, but I’m the opposite. I would feel weird if it were a female doctor. It’s hard to explain, but, with the exception of my eye doctor, I love all of my male doctors. I currently have no female doctors because I hated them all. Of course, my eye doctor is probably bitter because I broke his chair once. But that’s another story. And not a very good one. Moving on.
I was already in the weird sock bed chair with the paper on it. I had changed into the pink medical linen in the middle of winter (and doctors’ offices are never warm as it is) and I just sat there talking about my birth control and the weather and, whatever my doctor said, I couldn’t understand a word of it because he’s a very soft-spoken Asian, and, while accents are a lot of fun, he always speaks at a whisper, so I only get bits and pieces of what he’s saying.
So after that awkwardness is over, they start what I like to call “the vagina elevator”. Because for the first part of the exam, the breast exam, you’re sitting on something that’s more like a chair, but for the rest of the exam, it turns into a bed and brings your lady parts to the doctor’s eye level while he’s seated. Then all kinds of horror starts. I’m actually not bothered very much by the exam itself, but everything leading up to it is weird. I would prefer to chat when it’s done. I know they’re probably just trying to make me comfortable, but it really does the exact opposite. But then, I’m not normal.
My point here, is that elevators are never fun. They are tolerated because doctors can’t see very well hunched over and sometimes you need to get to a really high floor of a building and you’re running late and then the elevator would either get you there on time, or make you really late by breaking and then if you try to get out it might cut you in half. Which is why vagina elevators are way better than regular elevators.
Unless you get a C section. At least, I assume you’re on a similar vagina elevator in that case. I’ve never had one and never intend to. It’s something I would be content going the rest of my life without knowing.

No comments:

Post a Comment