I have once again waited until the last of the year to do almost everything. This last week was my desperate run to take advantage of the insurance benefits that i am so lucky to have. That meant two trips to the dentist and a physical, followed by another trip to the dentist next week. My teeth came in perfectly, never had braces, but they are of a Brittish gene pool which means the trouble they hide behind that seemingly perfectly healthy smile, is really no one’s fault.
Yesterday I went in for a yearly physical which my insurance covers completely, so why not. I scheduled it two weeks ago and at some point asked Violet if a physical included checkin’ out my bizniss? And she quickly said she didn’t think so. I even mentioned this appointment to a co-worker and asked her the same question, only I replaced ‘checkin out my bizniss’ with ‘you know’ assuming that any variation leading to a direct reference to anywhere near my vagina was probably inappropriate work conversation. She said, ‘Oh no, huh uh, no… no, you have to specify that.” And so I got on with my life. Not that I don’t think getting a pap smear isn’t important, it is very important. I also don’t carry any fear or anxiety around it like I do the dentist. It’s just one of those things that I would like to be aware of beforehand, to prepare in ways, both physically and mentally.
So, yesterday I walk into my doctor’s office, a doctor whom I adore, and the assistant told me to undress into that buttless robe and that the doctor would be in soon for my annual. I immediately replied, “wait, wait, annual or physical? I’m here for a physical.” And the assistant said, “Sure, a physical which includes a pap smear of course.” And she walked out.
In hind sight, I guess I should have prepared anyway, just in case. When I’m going to the dentist I floss and brush right before hand – regardless of what the visit will actually entail. So, by myself in the room I dropped trow and began to give myself my own mini-exam. I bent over and began to snoop around a bit. My overall take on things was that my bizniss was fine. Fine enough to have an unexpected visit by the doctor.
The actual event was unremarkable and over within minutes. And per the usual I had to help her find my uterus, which is quite tilted from what I have been told. The first time I had a pap smear it took three different doctors to find it – which, one, was quite awkward and two, included a fleeting moment of my thinking that maybe I didn’t have a uterus and that this was probably why I was a lesbian. Loose connections I know, but at the time it felt like a flawless theory.
Eventually, doctor number three found my tiny little guy hiding way back and over to the left – which is exactly how I direct doctors to date. They get in there, give that curious look with a faint little ‘huh’ and I chime in with, “oh, it’s there, it’s just hiding way back and over to the left. And the doctor says, “ah, there she is” and then we’re done. We have that little bit of after-chat, pants get put back on and voila, another clean bill of health for another year before I have to have my doctor all up in my bizniss again.