Apparently I’m full of shit. Or, at least I was. On Tuesday I went for my yearly (or in my case when-I-feel-like-having-someone-shove-a-spectulum-hand-and-cold-gel-up-my-vagina-experience) exam, consisting of a pap smear, internal exam, boob feel and whatever other part of me that they feel needs molested. It’s hard enough going to do “it” anyways, but try it with a three year old in hand. Ugh. During the exam, I had a grip on Timmy’s hand, holding tight, hoping my organza flowered drape cloth (hello, it’s a sheet, why is the room freaking cold) doesn’t drop off, or my “open in the front” (duh) gown falls off. It is interesting how after doing a task for so long, you become bland to the conversation and task at hand. How many people can feel a womans’ breast in all areas and depths while talking about birth control, road trip, and a mud slide. Really! After having the cold metal plate and junk shoved into me , Doc J kept mashing on my belly from the outside AND the inside (uh hello, I don’t see anyone mashing his prostate!), my grip gets tighter on poor Timmy’s hand. Doc J tells me to take a deep breath and relax, uh hello (uh hello is my term of the day) you are mashing on me and I’m trying to keep my three year old from being traumatized from seeing the place him and his brothers fell out of!!!
Eh, long story short, he thought he felt some out of place lumps or spots below my uterus. He opted to have me come back in a few days (today) after taking some laxatives and an enema (see where this is going). First, whoever thought that white chalky stuff could be consumed BETTER with a “MINT” taste ought to be shot and drug behind the Pony Express. Gag. Gag. Gag. Second, do not take said white chalky stuff AFTER eating some hot tamale candies. And thirdly, do not chase prior concoction with cranberry juice. Gag. Gag. Gag.
I’ve had the enjoyment of giving several enemas to patients (uh, hello, not). But never to myself. There is nothing like that awful feeling. I don’t know how people electively choose to do this. Gag. Gag. Gag.
Doc J examined me today, and apparently I was just full of shit. Ha. All my exes, old friends, teachers and classmates were right. I’m full of shit. Or at least I was.