*Warning* The following post uses the words “cervix”, “naked”, and “origami.” Proceed at your own risk.
Considering that I already told you all about my disastrous pregnant home bikini waxing experience, my first parental sex talk, and the horrors of bathing suit shopping, it might surprise you to know that there are still a few things that I don’t feel are entirely appropriate fodder for my blog. Things like acerbic political mudslinging, breathless reports on the latest misadventures of Britney Spears, or detailed accounts of my annual woman’s health checkups, for instance.
I’m going to strain the (self-imposed) confines of good taste for a moment, and open the blog door on my Monday appointment at the women’s clinic. Leaving out the most uncomfortable details, I do have a few tiny requests to make of my OB/GYN, and here they are:
1. Although I appreciate your desire to save a few pennies in these times of financial uncertainty, I do think you could splurge a bit more on the paper products you provide to protect the modest sensibilities of your patients. The paper tunic you instructed me to don (“opening in the back, dear”), while wide enough to cover two of me, was so thin I could count the freckles on my belly. Someone with origami skills might be able to fold it into a passable two-ply garment, which is something I will certainly look into before my next visit.
2. I don’t mind waiting in the waiting room, where I can quietly enjoy magazine articles until my name is called. I don’t mind waiting for the nurse to come take my blood pressure and check my pulse and write my weight and height down on her little chart. I don’t even mind waiting in that sterile, sunless, white examination room for a doctor to be available. Unless I’m naked. (And, as I addressed at length in point #1, that flimsy paper towel draped across my lap doesn’t count.) One naked minute is approximately equivalent to ten fully-clothed minutes. I waited for nearly two and a half hours in naked-time. That’s too long.
3. Two words: speculum warmer. They make them. Really!
4. Small talk before the examination may be useful for making your patients feel more at ease, it’s true. But when it’s time to get down to business, please just do your stuff and get out of there. Having to answer questions about where I went to college while you’re swabbing my cervix with a Q-tip feels like participating in some nightmarish reality quiz show.
5. Yes, I did scoot down. No, I can’t scoot down any more, or I’m going to fall off the table.
6. I know it’s kind of frivolous, but how about a picture or something on the ceiling? Considering the usual position of your patients, it makes a lot more sense than decorating the walls. I spent a lot of time looking up there, what with all those naked minutes. Oooh! You know what would be even better? Flat screen TV!
That is all. Feel free to implement any or all of these suggestions, dear doctor. You don’t even have to give me credit. A pre-warmed speculum will be thanks enough.
p.s. Yes, I know #5 is not really a suggestion so much as a whine. I just needed to get that off my chest.