There was no way I was forgetting this gyno appointment, because:
- My blog-buddy SueSun is going through chemotherapy for breast cancer. I have been scared straight.
- In every morning paper this week, just below the comics, was depicted the smiling face of my new gynecologist in this big ad: "Western Gynecological would like to welcome the newest member of our team, blah, blah, blah!"
She should cut it with the advertising - the girl's (I mean that literally. She's about 20.) hands are full with the patients she already has. I was Mary Poppins spit-spot punctual at 9:00 AM sharp, and spent an hour waiting for an examining room to open up. How can things get this backlogged at 9:00? At least I had my book.
Y'all know the routine. Get into the exam room, shed the clothes and put on the gown. Except it isn't a gown. I swear everything in this benighted land is being downsized. It's a cute little shoulder cape thingy. It is hard to maintain one's dignity and keep one's mind on one's book whilst freezing to death in a little cape.
Finally she breezes in and it's wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Two minutes communing with my whoop-woo, another minute fondling my breasts; recommendations for all the expensive tests I need now that I am in the geriatric zone of 41; and fwing, I'm outta there.
Oh, not quite. They insist on weighing me. 128! This is what I get for all the working out? All the weight lifting? Muscle weighs more than fat, yeah, I know. Wah, wah, wah. Does this mean that, if I let myself get any fitter, I'll soon weigh 130!?! Maybe I don't want muscle after all.
5 comments:
I think I weighed 128 in the third grade.....
Hey hey...glad to see things haven't changed over here!!! I 'm glad you are well...I'm hoping to get back to bloglandia soon after the Holidays!!!
I went to school up near the Canadian border. As a favor to the patients, the campus health clinic kept the specula in a warmer during winter.
Also, the paper vest is quite fetching when one's boobies hang out to bottom ;-P
Whoop-woo? Haha, SO adopting this euphemism.
My yearly gynecological exam is always a big fun shebang. My doctor is elderly and he always pats my leg gently as he peers up into me.
The last time I went was right after lunch and his breath smelled like onions. But, I didn't want to say anything for fear that he would have a great comeback line about me not smelling so great either....
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