In the morning, I went to my little stroke seminar and sat on my ass for four hours. Some of the speakers were good, some not so good. Much to my dismay, the Bosshole was there. His wife was one of the speakers, so it wasn't too out of the ordinary. However, she paled at one minute and almost passed out, he just sat there and watched. Way to be a concerned spouse, butthole!
After that, I hauled ass to the gyno's office. Filled out all my new patient paperwork, and was ushered into an exam room...where I sat and waited for 30 minutes. Just when I was going to step out of the exam room to throw a colossal fit, the doctor popped in. Test results in hand, she explained what they meant, how we would approach this, and what I can expect. In the course of two abnormal tests, no one has actually sat down to talk to me about this. I felt some relief and decided that this doctor could very well be my new favorite.
But then she had to go and ruin it by wanting a colposcopy done that very same day.
I was led into another room and told to strip from the waist down. Thank goodness I shaved my legs. I was given the sheet the size of a dish towel, and the thickness of tissue paper and told to wait. So, I waited. In walks doctor, nurse and some gangly looking kid in a short coat. I eye him with suspicion. The doctor introduces him as a med student (I had already surmised this) and asks if it would be okay for him to watch.
Me: What year med student are you?
Shortcoat: Third year
Me: You going to do your residency at my hospital?
Shortcoart: (now bewildered) I hope so.
Me: And you will start your residency in two years?
Me: Then...get out. When I see you again in two years, I will be fully dressed. Sorry!
Shortcoat is confused and looks at the doctor. I then explain that I am nurse at said hospital, and while I don't begrudge him for being a med student, I really don't want to encounter him on the floor later, his only memory of me being what my girly parts look like. This kind of thing can undermine the fear I strike in the hearts of new residents every July 1st. I can see it now...
New Resident: Man, that blonde on the step-down floor is a real bitch. She yelled at me for trying to use a tongue depressor for my patients rectal exam.
New Resident Formally Known as Shortcoat: Yeah, but I know what her cervix looks like!!
The first part of this procedure, my feet up in stirrups and bootwagga exposed to Mother Earth. Doctor inserts the speculum and again opens my hoohah so she can park an RV in it. She then uses this acid stuff on my cervix. "Fire!" I yelp. Doctor assures me that there is no fire, but the burning sensation by the acid. Damn Indians take everything so literal.
Pain of burning subsides and she does the scraping with the boat oar. My eyes cross.
Then, she produces this foot long pair of kelly clamps. I demand to know what it's for. Doctor tells me that it's just to hold the cervix so they can get a biopsy. Biopsy?!? Yes, they found a spot at 5 o'clock.
I actually yelled when she took the biopsy. By far the most painful thing ever. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when she finished, only whine when she announced that she found another spot at 1 o'clock.
And then there were two.
After that torture was over with, I lay on the exam table, writhing in pain. The doctor puts something on my cervix to stop the bleeding. I don't remember what she called it, but it smelled like pencil shavings and Elmer's Glue...and looked like Dijon mustard. Oh joy. I now look like I've had a deli sandwich stuffed in my bootwagga. Awesome.
Doctor tells me I should hear the results of my pathology report in about a week. She leaves. My nurse is labeling all these jars, and I see the one with the biopsies. Little pink chunks of me floating around. Suddenly, I hear the ocean right there in Overland Park, my arms get heavy, and the room starts to spin. The nurse leaves the room and I fall back on the table in an effort to try not to pass out. After five minutes, the feeling passes and I am able to get dressed and leave.
For the remainder of the day, I feel as though my uterus is really going to fall out. I took some Alieve and felt better about life, even though I get a week to worry ad nauseum. Whatever comes next, I'm going to demand that I get knocked out before anyone comes at my delicate girly parts with any sharp metal object.
Paul (ND!) felt sorry for me and my day's trauma, and took me to Houlihan's for dinner. A peach LIT makes everything better, especially at $3.50 a pitcher. I bought some new kitchen handtowels at Williams Sonoma as a reward for surviving the day. They don't really match my kitchen, but the colors make me happy...and I need all the help I can get.