I feel like I cheated on my family doctor today.
He always encouraged me to schedule an annual exam (gyno-euphemism for sticking a spatula up your vagina and poking around). He knew it had been several years since my last "annual," but I kept putting it off. Reason? Well, I suppose my three top reasons would be that, (1) see blog title. It's hard enough for me to pick up the phone, let alone for an uncomfortable medical procedure, (2) there is virtually no chance of my having contracted the Human Papilloma Virus, the main precursor to cervical cancer (the main reason for the spatula), and, (3) ick. I like my family doctor and all, and I know that I need to get checked and that there are more reasons to have an annual exam then just the pap smear. But I've managed to put it off for years nonetheless.
I finally decided that if I was going to be a responsible grown-up and not run the risk of dying of a treatable disease, I was going to have to find a way to make myself an appointment. I determined that if I couldn't do it through will power alone (I can't do much of anything through will power alone), I will have to find a way to remove a few road blocks to the goal.
Turns out, one big road block was all I needed to remove. Any guesses? Yep. Gender. Removing the male from the equation was immediately freeing. I made a call to a new gynecology office staffed by two experienced female doctors and made an appointment for today.
The office was new - barely out of the box - but it was warm. Literally, it was warm. I noticed the thermostat was set on 75 degrees. A tough temperature to deal with walking in from the street in sweat suit and rain coat, but extremely thoughtful once sitting around in a paper shirt and a paper towel lap robe. It was also very female. Not a male in sight unless you count the visibly uncomfortable husband in the waiting room.
This was unexplainably soothing - maybe not so unexplainable if you consider the portion of the anatomy being studied in this office.
We spend all our lives trying to protect our girl parts from the boy tribe. Then later on, you are told to open up and let a man look inside you - right through your most protected girl hole. Well, ick. Thank God for female gynecologists.
Today's experience wasn't fun, but it was as comfortable as can be expected and quicker - and with less organ squashing then I remember - from previous experiences, and I learned a few things.
The bad news: I've been made to set a mammogram appointment for next week. Oh, Lord.