The GynoMonster

So I was thinking about it, and I decided, why not blog about it? I mean, I've already scared away all of the men anyways. What do I have to lose at this point? (Is this where I've crossed the line between Family Blog and Personal Blog? Don't worry, I'll try not to do this again.)

So I will. No worries-- there are no terrifying details here... I was just thinking about the experience as a whole, and decided it is an interesting thing.

Why, if it is so necessary to do atleast once a year, do we not figure out a way to make it more comfortable and less awkward?

I mean, maybe your experiences are different than mine, but really... well, here's how I would describe it...

I arrived and sat in the waiting room with Brooklyn for a while. She was completely freaked out by the whole doctor scene. I don't know why, but she was a grump and none to happy about accompanying me.

Finally my name was called and I followed the nurse down the hall and into a room where she pointed out my robe and sheet. I situated Brooklyn on the floor with every book I had stuffed into her bag. I also opened two fruit snacks, and dumped out all of the other toys. She needed things to occupy her. Then I de-robed and quickly grabbed my robe and sheet. I mean, you've got to be quick right? You never know when the doctor is going to walk back in, and I'll be darned if I'm still going to be in the de-robing process.

So I picked up the "robe" to put it on. When I think of a robe I think of a fuzzy bathrobe... comfort really. THIS, was not that kind of robe. I attempted to figure out which way the thing was to be put on. In hindsight, it probably didn't matter. I'd be willing to bet everything that this "robe" could have fit 4 grown men inside it, without their having to touch at all. That's fine, but then I saw the "robe ties" at the front of it. Now, what is the point of having robe ties if the robe is big enough to wrap around 4 men? Clearly, tying the ties isn't going to do anybody any good. So instead, I wrapped the "robe" around, and around, and around... Then I picked up the "sheet", which was to go over my legs. I wasn't too concerned about this as my "robe" went past my knees, but for the sake of tradition, I decided to figure the "sheet" out. Turns out, the "Sheet" was really more of a paper towel. A big paper towel, but a paper towel nonetheless. (I wonder if they feel better about the situation if they refer to them as "robes" and "sheets." Like you're at a spa or something.) Anyways. Then I sat on the ever-so-comfortable, and very quiet paper. The whole time, Brooklyn is going nuts, fussing and... well, probably voicing her concern about my "robe" and "sheet." Of course, there was nothing I could do to comfort her-- I mean, I was sitting on the paper in my "robe" and "sheet" and you better believe I wasn't about to hop down and try to help her find another toy. What if that was when the doctor decided to walk in?! So I didn't. She had to fend for herself.

Soon there were fruit snacks strewn around the room, and I decided that if he hadn't come in the room in 20 minutes, why would he come in after 21 minutes? So I hopped down and tried to help Brooklyn. Actually, we read a book, "robe" and all. I didn't dilly-dally of course, the doctor would be there "any minute," so I hopped back on the table and arranged my "robe" and "sheet" just in time.

Nice doctor-- no complaints. But isn't it funny how the doctor tries to carry on a normal conversation during an exam? Ha. It happens every time, "so where are you from? how old is your daughter? what does your husband do?..." You know, like we're having a normal conversation over dinner--- only this is NOT dinner. And we are NOT friends. And frankly, I have no idea how I answered any of the questions. I was distracted by Brooklyn's screaming and the rest of it.

Ugh, thank goodness we don't have to do this more often. I mean, it's fine, and it's good. It's a good thing we have doctors to help us stay healthy. I just... I've always wanted to ask my doctor and I never have: What on earth would possess you to want to be a gynocologist when you grew up? I mean, who aspires to THAT? Do you realize that people like my husband refer to you as the "gyno-monster"?

I think maybe I'll ask next time...