When I was 18 my mom decided I should go to my first annual gynecological checkup. I knew the dreaded yearly exam would come soon enough as I remember hearing in health class that females should start to go around 17-18 years old. I really wasn’t sure what to expect. The thought of spreading my legs while hoisted in stirrups, with my private girl parts out for the world to see really freaked me out – and rightfully so. When I got to my appointment, I waited the usual half hour for my doctor. I finally heard a knock at the door and in walked a 50-some year old man with salt and pepper sideburns and a chocolate brown toupee. He gave his hair piece a quick fix, looked at me and winked. What was I getting myself into?I am sure reading this it sounds like a very awkward first experience/impression. Weirdly enough it was his way of lightening the mood for what was to come. In a very strange way, I must admit, it helped. I figured he had a good sense of humor considering he knew it was so obvious he wore a rug on his head. I left there with a sense of relief; it was not as bad as I thought. He was super nice and he made me feel comfortable in one of the most uncomfortable situations.
Last week it was time for another one of my annual gynecological exams and lucky as you all are, you get to hear about this one too. I debated discussing this trip as these types of appointments are rather personal but the event that took place was too entertaining to keep to myself. My regular toupee-wearing doctor transitioned to focus more on delivering babies so I was forced to schedule an appointment with the newest doctor to the practice. She is a nice, short young female of Indian origin (I am trying to paint you a picture). When it was time for my exam the nurse came in, I leaned back and anxiously awaited the end of my appointment.
The doctor sat down, she was so tiny that I could not see her too well. All of a sudden I hear, “I am going to bring you up. This is going to be like a Kennywood ride.” Oh how fun. Up, up and up I go as the table begins to rise. I am sure the look on my face was quite entertaining as I look at the nurse who is just as surprised as me with how high I was in the air, my legs spread wide open and my private girly parts out. She then says, “I am going to lean you back a bit so I can get a good look.” Lean me back? Well this doctor must not have much experience with this table because she clearly held this button in for too long, I start grasping the sides of the table in fear I would slide down then back, head first with my hoo-ha out. The nurse couldn’t hold in her chuckle and neither could I, she asked if I was ok and the doctor kept apologizing for leaning me back too far. I had never had an experience quite like this before. The toupee-wearing doctor would have never pulled such shenanigans. I prayed that the next time I came in she would be better trained and I wouldn’t have to hold so tightly onto the table in fear of slipping off head first, hoo-ha out. If it were anyone else in my position I am sure they would have been a little irritated and mad. But I couldn’t because I was too busy laughing and she is so tiny, it’s the only way she feels she can see in there. I wish I was making this up, but I am not. Sadly (or thankfully) for my next appointment I will not get to see if she brushed up on her table-operating skills as I am getting new insurance and they’re not in my network. I will, however, be sad to leave my toupee-wearing doctor.
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