Just in case there are any men reading this post, I will be as delicate as possible, in my description of my fun-filled doctor's appointment yesterday. Ohhh, this is going to take a bit of creativity. Okay...
For any of you ladies who have hit that "over 40" mark, you know that things just start happening, to your body, that are 1.) uncontrollable, 2.) inexplicable and 3.) unpleasant. Everyone is unique, so I'm sure these "things" run the gamut. One of my "things" is....ummmm....hmmmm...boy, this is tough to put delicately. Let's just say that the number of days/ month when I am NOT in need of feminine hygiene products is exponentially smaller than the days I AM in need of them. 'Nuff said? I decided it was probably a good idea to call the dr. yesterday when I realized (for the third consecutive month) that I'd had an 8 day break between my last two "visits".
I'll spare you the gory details of my dr's appointment, but I was struck by one thing: as I'm lying (laying? that is one grammatical usage question that always stumps me) there, on the paper-lined table...feet in stirrups...cold "jaws of life" thingy firmly in place....lights, camera, action! My ob/gym, whom I love, is performing a most uncomfortable procedure somewhere in my Southern region and I am trying valiantly not to jump off the table and poke him with something sharp in his tender spot! As I'm squeezing the poor nurses elbow (like she had anything to do with the discomfort I was experiencing!) and trying to be a big girl, he says to me..."You're okay. I'm 1/2 way done". Half way done??? Really??? Is he kidding me? I'm supposed to be consoled by that??? At that moment I knew, for certain, that kind of statement could only be uttered by a person who never could and never would be on the receiving end of such an invasive & uncomfortable procedure.
