Today’s installment of “every day’s an adventure when you’re living my life” is the very fancy “Lady-Business Doctor” edition. A while back, I had to make a trip to Dr. Lady-Business because I was having some issues in the lady-business department. You don’t need details and I’m not handing them out SO STOP ASKING.
The first appointment was kind of like a gigantic car crash of insanity. I went into the exam room and a very no-nonsense nurse had to do an ultrasound. Now, this isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. And this nurse was devoid of human emotion. Like, I almost would have settled for Nurse Ratched because at least she showed something on her face. This woman was a blank. So she’s doing the ultrasound, and the whole thing is really not very dignified, you know? You’re kind of at your most vulnerable, there. But you get to see your insides on a screen. I mean, it’s not clear, or anything. It looks like green scribbles. But it’s interesting! I like seeing things you don’t normally see. I like x-rays and things like that. I mean, how often do you get to see the man behind the curtain, you know? (THAT IS NOT A EUPHEMISM. ALTHOUGH IT WOULD KIND OF BE AN AWESOME ONE SO LET’S START USING IT.) So it wasn’t like I had anything else to do, up there on that table. I wasn’t able to bring a book or play Angry Birds or anything. I turned my head to look at the screen. Nurse Pokerface saw this and started turning the screen so I couldn’t see what was on it. Well, that seemed suspect. Are we playing Scrabble? Why are you hiding your tiles? Because technically, they’re MY tiles, right? So I leaned over to see the screen more. And she turned it more. Well, that was annoying.
Me: Can I see the screen?
Nurse Pokerface: No.
Me: Why?
NP: You wouldn’t know how to read it.
Me: I know. Can I see it anyway?
NP: That’s against policy.
Me: Really? Why? That seems like a strange policy. Am I dying of cancer?
NP: What? THAT’S NOT EVEN WHY YOU’RE HERE. I don’t know. I’m not qualified to read the screen.
Me: Really? But you’re doing the ultrasound? Hmm. You seem an odd choice for this job, then. If you had to GUESS, am I dying of cancer?
NP: I don’t know. STOP LOOKING AT THE SCREEN.
Me: I’M SO BORED UP HERE THOUGH. Don’t you have a magazine or something I could look at?
So then it was done, and Nurse Pokerface (who didn’t find me adorable! I know, right? What the hell!) got up to leave.
NP: Dr. Lady-Business will be in in a moment. He…
Me: Whoa. I specifically asked for a female doctor, because once? I had a male doctor, and he was really odd and accused me of whoriness.
NP: I don’t think that happened.
Me: Which part?
NP: Either. But if you’d asked for a female doctor, you would have been scheduled with one. If you want to reschedule, put your pants back on. (Note – only in the Lady-Business doctor’s office is this an actual thing they say without it being a funny joke.)
Me: Well, I know I asked, but, I mean, it seems like a waste of time to reschedule, and I’m already all half-naked and crap. Fine.
NP: Dr. Lady-Business is showing a male med student the ropes, so he’ll also be in on the exam.
Me: Um. I’m already uncomfortable with the male doctor, so I’m thinking bringing an additional male in is not the best way to allay my fears. Do I get a say in this?
NP: Yes.
Me: Then I say no. Also, can you warn Dr. Lady-Business that if there’s any whore-accusations I’m totally walking out, pants or no pants.
NP: (sigh) FINE.
(The whore thing did happen, which is why I always ask for a lady lady-business doctor. And NO, it wasn’t a lady-business doctor practicing out of his van. It was a real doctor. He just acted very skeptical when we were discussing my sexual history, as if I secretly had lovers stashed all over the exam room and was just waiting ‘til he left to wash his hands to get it on. I found that off-putting.)
When Nurse Pokerface left, I totally looked at the screen. And I didn’t know what it was but I still felt justified that I looked at it. Then a screensaver came up of a mother and child grinning like morons so I couldn’t look at it anymore. WELL-PLAYED NURSE POKERFACE.
Dr. Lady-Business came in, and listen. You’re up on a table at your most vulnerable and you already are worried you’re going to have a doctor who thinks you’re whorey, so you’re not really in a good mental place, and here is a rendition of the facial hair Dr. Lady-Business has.
Note – this is not Dr. Lady-Business. Note 2 - I find it odd that this man's hair and moustache are completely different colors.
I felt like I was about to get checked out in an 1800’s saloon.
Dr. Lady-Business does his investigation, and HE lets me look at the screen while he’s spelunking, NURSE POKERFACE, so THERE, and when he’s done, he says, and I’m not even exaggerating:
“So I guess we could schedule a hysterectomy, then.”
Um. Well! That was…abrupt!
Me: I totally have cancer, then? I SAID that. To the nurse. But she said she couldn’t tell me.
Dr. Lady-Business: No. You’re fine.
Me: So…I guess I’m wondering…why we’re thinking major surgery, then?DL-B: It would solve all of your issues.
Me: Ha. Yes, well, blowing up the Earth would also solve pickpocketing, but I think there has to be a better solution, don’t you?
DL-B: Why is this an issue? Are you planning on having children?
Me: Why? Did you see a baby on the screen? IS THAT WHY THE NURSE WOULDN’T LET ME LOOK?
DL-B: No.
Me: Oh. In the abstract. I don’t know. Maybe? Do I have to decide right now?
DL-B: (looking at my chart) I see you’re in your mid-thirties. You’re not getting any younger.
Me: Oh, stop flirting, you. You’ll make me blush.
DL-B: So we could schedule that surgery right now, then.
Me: I’d like to put my pants back on now, please.
Today was follow-up time with Dr. Lady-Business.
First I met with another nurse. There are a LOT of nurses there. This nurse was skeptical.
Nurse Scoffington: Are you on any medications?
Me: (laughing) Oh, my, yes.
NS: Which ones?
Me: I told you last time I was here. It’s on my chart.
NS: I don’t have that chart.
Me: Really? Why not? OK, well, I can’t recreate my regimen without notes. There are a lot of them. And their names are INSANE. Like, all the consonants in the world are in one drug name. I can tell you what they’re for. Does that help at all?
NS: Are they all prescription?
Me: Are you asking if I do street drugs?
NS: Why, do you?
Me: Not this week. But it’s only Tuesday! Ha! Right?
NS: It's Wednesday.
Me: Oh! Well, where does the time go. If I'm going to get those street drugs, I'd better get crackin'.
NS: It's Wednesday.
Me: Oh! Well, where does the time go. If I'm going to get those street drugs, I'd better get crackin'.
NS: WHAT PILLS ARE YOU TAKING.
And then, Dr. Lady-Business. Oh, Dr. Lady-Business. How I have missed your bedside manner AND YOU STILL HAVE THE MOUSTACHE DAMN.
DL-B: Are you married?
Me: Not that I’m aware of. I kind of think we covered this a few months ago.
DL-B: Plans to become so?
Me: I guess anything could happen. I mean, there was an earthquake yesterday. End times, doctor, am I right?
DL-B: So you want to keep your options open?
Me: Are you hitting on me? You didn’t even take off your wedding ring. I like that kind of forthrightness.
DL-B: You might want to have children someday.
Me: Yes. I’m pretty sure Prince Charming might still be coming. You never know. I have a secret internet boyfriend, for example, who doesn’t even know he’s my internet boyfriend and we haven’t and probably won’t ever meet in real life? So I’ve got that going for me. Once he shows up I probably’d better have a uterus, you know? What if it’s like a Cinderella situation and he’s looking for the perfect uterus and YOU THREW MINE IN THE TRASH? Way to be a cock-blocker, Dr. Lady-Business.
DL-B: Here are some pills. See you in December.
Whoo-hoo! I escaped with my uterus! I totally win gynecological bingo!
Yeah, this day was a total win. On the way back to the office, I bought an iced coffee, which I promptly spilled all down the front of me, so that’s nice. Just a matter of time before that eventual wedding, Dr. Lady-Business! NO ONE CAN RESIST ME I AM LIKE A SEXY SIREN IN GREEK MYTHOLOGY. A sexy, sexy, iced-coffee-covered siren. Get in line, suitors!
Hysterical...
ReplyDeleteBy the way if any gyno ever asks you if "you mind having a internship gyno also look at you" (meaning two docs examine you) say FUCK NO. I fell for this trap and you want to know who walked through the fucking door? SHAQUILLE O'NEIL! What 8 foot 300lb black man decides he wants to be a gyno? I TELL YOU WHAT KIND....
WTF? I would not have been so funny. I would have been all WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU AND DID YOU EVEN GO TO MEDICAL SCHOOL? But I'm an angry, angry person. You crack me up.
ReplyDeleteOh mah gawd, I am rolling around on my floor, wheezing, because your blog is cracking me up.
ReplyDeleteEr, also, sorry that happened to you and stuff.