One of the downfalls to not having my life together in any way, shape, or form is that since I don't have a steady gig...I don't have health insurance. Which I gotta tell you pisses me off beyond belief when some fucking illegal can waltz right into a hospital and be seen before me and get more coverage than I can from the great USA. Thanks, Uncle Sam. Way to stick it to the one who was born here. But that's another rant and I really need to do some more research on my politics before I wade into the ring on that one.
Anyway, in the interest of protecting the world from dozens of little me's waltzing around and in the interest of protecting my vagina from immense amounts of pain, not to mention stretching, I decided, after 8 mths of being in the City that a trip to the Planned Parenthood was in order. Of course, before I came to that conclusion, I had to have sex with the guy with the small penis and the older guy numerous times. Not to mention have a couple of scares and take a stab at the Morning After Pill- which is a whole nother story for another time. Anyway, making the appointment was surprisingly easy. They asked for my birthdate and name and I could make the appt 24 hours prior. Which is clutch when you have a job who's schedule is not set. Plus they charge you based on a sliding scale that is set by the amount of money you make so points for them.
So I stroll into my appt, still unsure as to whether or not I'm pregnant, and really dreading the idea of discussing my options with the doctor. They hand me some stuff to fill out and some pamphlets about privacy, testing, and options. Blah blah blah. Gimme the damn pregnancy test and end this torture. She has me pee in the cup and sends me back out to wait. Ten minutes later, she emerges to tell me I'm NOT pregnant. Oh thank you sweet 8 lb 6 oz baby jesus. The day just got brighter. Now I just have to get through the STD tests and the Pap Smear. Noooo problem.
She leaves me to put on my awesome paper gown and I'm feeling pretty damn good. And that's when shit goes from good to....weird. Not bad really. Just strange. As usual, she explains to me how the breast exam works, demonstrates what I need to do when I'm checking for lumps monthly (take a guess as to whether or not I do this), and then she starts to check my boobs out herself. And then she says, as she rubs my boob in a circular motion, "You have really great breasts." Awkward pause. Lonnnnnng awkward pause. "I mean, you don't have lumpy breasts which makes it easy to check them out." Another long awkward pause. "You know, medically, it's easy to spot a problem." Exhale long breath. Silence as she massages the other one. "Okayyy...well, everything looks alright up here."
Now is the super fun part. Spread 'em, stick 'em in some stirrups, and... get down to business. Inside me. Ohhh fun times. This has the making of a great porn. This, I have to tell you, is the fastest Pap Smear I have ever had. And I was a little concerned about the lack of a witness. At a normal Drs. office, someone else has to be present to make sure nothing bad happens (for example, the above exchange, or even the one that follows). So she sticks that crazy plastic thing up there and the uncomfortable clicks happen in rapid succession. Kind of painful but oh well, what can you do? She swabs me out real quick and then lubes her fingers up. And then as she is investigating my vagina she says, "You have a really great cervix." Ummmm, what? I'm sorry, are you in between my legs, discussing my vagina with me as you probe around in it with your hand? I mean, could this conversation wait until after you've allowed me some semblance of normalcy, maybe the convenience of being clothed and sitting upright as you casually discuss the pros of my cervix. God only knows what she babbled about after that. I was so shocked that she was pretty much fingering me and discussing how great I felt and how easy it was to find my cervix that I had kind of tuned her out. UNCOMFORTABLE.
FINALLY, she walks out and allows me to get dressed. I threw my clothes on as quickly as I could. No way in hell was she walking in on me in any state of undress. I don't think she was hitting on me, but I don't think she could have made me more uncomfortable if she had tried really, really hard. She sweeps back into the room and opens my chart, studying it intently. I'm thinking we are about to discuss my birth control options when she looks up with a funny look on her face. "When did you say your last period was?" About two months ago but my pregnancy test came back negative sooo...and I was really irregular before I was put on birth control...and I've lost weight...and I've run out of excuses. "You can't start birth control until you get your period. You'll have to come back in two weeks if you haven't had it by then. We'll have to do another pregnancy test and maybe an ultrasound. Just to be sure." Wait a minute, you're hands were IN me and you couldn't feel a UTERUS BEARING A BABY while you were in there? WTF? What is going on? And what do you mean I can't start my birth control yet? My baseball player leaves in two weeks to play baseball and I can't fuck him before he leaves? This my friends is the UGLY. Now, my bubble has been burst and I just want to get the hell out of here.
Of course, she spots my comment on the morning after pill and starts questioning me about that. Then she asks how many people Ive slept with. Now I know it's not a large number, but I want to make sure I'm truthful, so I start running through them all in my head. And there was that other baseball player in DC. Did we have drunk sex or do everything but? Better count him just in case. Oh yeah and don't forget that best friend of yours you had a wild and crazy night of sex that included absolutely no sleep but so many orgasms you lost count. Now she is looking at me like I'm a whore. "7." I say positive I've gotten them all. "7." She repeats like some fucking parrot waiting for a prize. She frowns, looks at my chart and frowns at me again. Wait a minute, I thought this was a safe place? Why the fuck is she judging me? I thought she was here to assist me in making safe choices, not making me feel bad for any decisions I have made in the past. I mean why do I feel dirty now? (Consequently, I did go home and shower immediately after). She lectures me on abstinence (too late my friend.), condoms (god those things are a necessary evil- they totally kill sex though), and my options should I become pregnant (this answer seems obvious as should I become pregnant I probably won't realize it for a few months and will have consumed enough alcohol for an entire nation in that time period, plus taken two months worth of birthcontrol. If it is possible, the kid would come out more fucked up than me.I digress.) She hands me a brown bag full of wonderous things- birth control, condoms and fun, colorful pamphlets basically telling me I'm a whore! YESSSSSSS! This is the best and worst day of my life.
And it cost me the extremely cheap $120 bucks! STEAL!
My best friend pretty much put it best when she told me she wasn't ready to start shopping at baby gap yet so I better play by the rules. So true, my friend, so true.
Anyway, in the interest of protecting the world from dozens of little me's waltzing around and in the interest of protecting my vagina from immense amounts of pain, not to mention stretching, I decided, after 8 mths of being in the City that a trip to the Planned Parenthood was in order. Of course, before I came to that conclusion, I had to have sex with the guy with the small penis and the older guy numerous times. Not to mention have a couple of scares and take a stab at the Morning After Pill- which is a whole nother story for another time. Anyway, making the appointment was surprisingly easy. They asked for my birthdate and name and I could make the appt 24 hours prior. Which is clutch when you have a job who's schedule is not set. Plus they charge you based on a sliding scale that is set by the amount of money you make so points for them.
So I stroll into my appt, still unsure as to whether or not I'm pregnant, and really dreading the idea of discussing my options with the doctor. They hand me some stuff to fill out and some pamphlets about privacy, testing, and options. Blah blah blah. Gimme the damn pregnancy test and end this torture. She has me pee in the cup and sends me back out to wait. Ten minutes later, she emerges to tell me I'm NOT pregnant. Oh thank you sweet 8 lb 6 oz baby jesus. The day just got brighter. Now I just have to get through the STD tests and the Pap Smear. Noooo problem.
She leaves me to put on my awesome paper gown and I'm feeling pretty damn good. And that's when shit goes from good to....weird. Not bad really. Just strange. As usual, she explains to me how the breast exam works, demonstrates what I need to do when I'm checking for lumps monthly (take a guess as to whether or not I do this), and then she starts to check my boobs out herself. And then she says, as she rubs my boob in a circular motion, "You have really great breasts." Awkward pause. Lonnnnnng awkward pause. "I mean, you don't have lumpy breasts which makes it easy to check them out." Another long awkward pause. "You know, medically, it's easy to spot a problem." Exhale long breath. Silence as she massages the other one. "Okayyy...well, everything looks alright up here."
Now is the super fun part. Spread 'em, stick 'em in some stirrups, and... get down to business. Inside me. Ohhh fun times. This has the making of a great porn. This, I have to tell you, is the fastest Pap Smear I have ever had. And I was a little concerned about the lack of a witness. At a normal Drs. office, someone else has to be present to make sure nothing bad happens (for example, the above exchange, or even the one that follows). So she sticks that crazy plastic thing up there and the uncomfortable clicks happen in rapid succession. Kind of painful but oh well, what can you do? She swabs me out real quick and then lubes her fingers up. And then as she is investigating my vagina she says, "You have a really great cervix." Ummmm, what? I'm sorry, are you in between my legs, discussing my vagina with me as you probe around in it with your hand? I mean, could this conversation wait until after you've allowed me some semblance of normalcy, maybe the convenience of being clothed and sitting upright as you casually discuss the pros of my cervix. God only knows what she babbled about after that. I was so shocked that she was pretty much fingering me and discussing how great I felt and how easy it was to find my cervix that I had kind of tuned her out. UNCOMFORTABLE.
FINALLY, she walks out and allows me to get dressed. I threw my clothes on as quickly as I could. No way in hell was she walking in on me in any state of undress. I don't think she was hitting on me, but I don't think she could have made me more uncomfortable if she had tried really, really hard. She sweeps back into the room and opens my chart, studying it intently. I'm thinking we are about to discuss my birth control options when she looks up with a funny look on her face. "When did you say your last period was?" About two months ago but my pregnancy test came back negative sooo...and I was really irregular before I was put on birth control...and I've lost weight...and I've run out of excuses. "You can't start birth control until you get your period. You'll have to come back in two weeks if you haven't had it by then. We'll have to do another pregnancy test and maybe an ultrasound. Just to be sure." Wait a minute, you're hands were IN me and you couldn't feel a UTERUS BEARING A BABY while you were in there? WTF? What is going on? And what do you mean I can't start my birth control yet? My baseball player leaves in two weeks to play baseball and I can't fuck him before he leaves? This my friends is the UGLY. Now, my bubble has been burst and I just want to get the hell out of here.
Of course, she spots my comment on the morning after pill and starts questioning me about that. Then she asks how many people Ive slept with. Now I know it's not a large number, but I want to make sure I'm truthful, so I start running through them all in my head. And there was that other baseball player in DC. Did we have drunk sex or do everything but? Better count him just in case. Oh yeah and don't forget that best friend of yours you had a wild and crazy night of sex that included absolutely no sleep but so many orgasms you lost count. Now she is looking at me like I'm a whore. "7." I say positive I've gotten them all. "7." She repeats like some fucking parrot waiting for a prize. She frowns, looks at my chart and frowns at me again. Wait a minute, I thought this was a safe place? Why the fuck is she judging me? I thought she was here to assist me in making safe choices, not making me feel bad for any decisions I have made in the past. I mean why do I feel dirty now? (Consequently, I did go home and shower immediately after). She lectures me on abstinence (too late my friend.), condoms (god those things are a necessary evil- they totally kill sex though), and my options should I become pregnant (this answer seems obvious as should I become pregnant I probably won't realize it for a few months and will have consumed enough alcohol for an entire nation in that time period, plus taken two months worth of birthcontrol. If it is possible, the kid would come out more fucked up than me.I digress.) She hands me a brown bag full of wonderous things- birth control, condoms and fun, colorful pamphlets basically telling me I'm a whore! YESSSSSSS! This is the best and worst day of my life.
And it cost me the extremely cheap $120 bucks! STEAL!
My best friend pretty much put it best when she told me she wasn't ready to start shopping at baby gap yet so I better play by the rules. So true, my friend, so true.
1 comment:
YOU SCARED THE PISS OUT OF ME! Literally! I had to go to the bathroom and take pee. I blame it on Google Reader though. I saw it come up and literally ready EVERYTHING except the first line because I didn't know the line was there. Fuck you google reader. I'm going to now drink this beer and lower my blood pressure.
I have learned a lesson from all of this. ALWAYS. Scroll. UP.
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