Wednesday, June 11, 2008

boys, it's not that descriptive, I promise

This morning I had a gynecologist appointment and it was my first one with a new doctor since my old, most-favorite-gynecologist-ever bailed on the Bay Area and "moved somewhere quieter to have kids" (When my hair stylist changes salons I get a phone call, but when my lady parts doctor wants to leave the Bay Area and take her family somewhere quieter I find out from the receptionist. And somewhere quieter? Like where, rural Kansas? Maybe the tundra region of Alaska? How dare she leave when I still have my birthing years ahead of me!)

So this new doctor walks in and is immediately, eh, nervous? Not nervous nervous, just not right. She wasn't dropping speculas and other tools or anything, she just didn't seem at ease. And I don't know about other girls, but I want the doctor that's going down there to be cool and calm. I want them to seem like they have their shit together and this poor doctor's shit seemed to be flung far and wide. Possibly even as far as a quieter place, especially since I read online that shit really loves backwoods Tennessee.

The best moment to describe how flustered this doctor is: when she went to turn on the lamp that lady doctors use to stare into your abyss, it wouldn't turn on. She tried to jiggle the cord, no light. She tried unplugging and replugging it, no light. She tried jiggling the cord again, no light. She then started frantically looking around the room trying to figure out what to do. I offered to move to another room but she wouldn't have that. "No, no, stay put. I can figure something out."

After some more searching she pulled out what I assume was an earthquake kit and found a flashlight in it. I have no idea how she held the flashlight and performed the exam, stupid paper sheet blocking my view, but I like to think she held it in her mouth.

After she finished the exam she hastily tried to bolt from the room, only to have to reenter to give me some paperwork. When she came back she knocked, but didn't pause for an answer and kinda shocked herself when I was standing there mostly naked. Not that it bothered me seeing as how she knows what I look like inside and out, but she seemed pretty embarrassed. Without making eye contact she handed me the paperwork explaining that one was about reproductive organ cancer ("You're too young for this, but take a paper anyway.") and one page declaring that I'm obese ("It has, um, exercise suggestions on the back.")

Part of me wants to try another doctor in the office, but part of me is afraid that if I don't see this doctor at my next appointment then she might feel like a failure and quit medicine. Maybe it was just first time jitters. Although it's not like I was her first patient, she's been with the practice for seven months. Everyone deserves a second chance right? For God's sake, she held a flashlight with her teeth! That's got to count for something!


  1. Poor lady. Be a hero! Well, part of a heroic duo. You and your vagina, saving gynecologists everywhere, one exam at a time.

  2. Bad doctors do not deserve a second chance. Ask around and get a recommendation on a better doctor close to your work/home or try someone else. Do you really want a flustered doctor when push comes to shove (literally) and she's supposed to be delivering your child?

    Obese? Exercise suggestions? WTF? First, there is no f@#*ing way you fall into that category, and two, you run, like, every single day! Did she even bother to ASK you about your physical activity level?

  3. "I have no idea how she held the flashlight and performed the exam, stupid paper sheet blocking my view, but I like to think she held it in her mouth. "
    Iced tea just came out of my nose, and now my daughter thinks I'm a fountain!

    I fired my last OB because she was a cow... the one I have now was a little awkward at first, but now she's lovely. Maybe yours just had a bad day.

  4. For Lily:

    I was looking at cancer tshirts and that popped up in my search...I figured it was appropriate for your post.

  5. Damn am I glad to be a dude.

    Well, until the next prostate exam.