For archchancellor...

[quidditchgrrl]

Well, let me give you an in-depth version of what we ladies endure at our annual exams, Damien. Read on at your own risk; I won't be providing iodine from this point on.

Just like you, we're placed in a cold examination room and made to strip down to our socks. Given an ill-fitting paper smock, we put it on and climb onto the high table, trying to make that damn thing fit around us enough to avoid flashing the entire office when the door is opened. I am of the opinion those things come in one size - Bare All. :P

The doctor comes in, polite small talk optional. While you're twisting around trying to hide your most pertinent bits, he/she begins the Litany of Personal Questions:

"How are your sugars?" (For me and the other diabetics)
"Any irregular bleeding?"
"Birth control still working okay?" (Well, I would have called earler if not!)
"Are you still with the same partner?" "Are you using barrier birth control?"
"Do you need an STD test?"
"Are you doing regular breast self-exams?"
ad infinitium

You swing into the stirrups to endure the exam. Oh, there is some math involved. Two rough examinations of each breast - I'm always afraid for the future performance of my milk ducts, since I have little padding to ward off those poking fingers. Ten gloved fingers giving the lower bits the once-over, then one internal bladder examination (and that ain't the G-spot, no sir).

Then comes the speculum. Counting stops here and praying begins. Slide it in and crank it open. Open until you feel like you're prepping for a scene with John Holmes. While you're trying not to beg for mercy and writhe in pain, the doctor inserts a little instrument that looks like a mascara wand, and scrubs your cervix to pick up cells. Another small device follows that, which scrapes cells from your cervix.

You'd think they'd be kind after all of this cruelty. But no, the doctor quickly unscrews the speculum and unscrews you so quickly you feel like your uterus might dislodge with the resulting suction. A quick removal of gloves, a few notes on the chart, and whoosh! The doctor has swept out the door. And you've given the desk an eyeful because you've forgotten your oh-so-modest attire.

So yeah, I'll trade your few seconds of discomfort. :D



You know I loff you Damien! >:D< But you just can't work the reverse male theory in this venue. We women have cornered the market for physical suffering.

Comments

Those female exams...

[blue-eye.livejournal.com]

This is why I haven't gone in a few years. I know. Me so bad. The only thing worse is going in for a lap. There are about 6 people in the room and modesty is not an option. You're laying on this thin slab as you get introduced to everybody..."and this is so-and-so" and "so and so is over there..." I thought that they had sold tickets. The only good thing is that they put you out for that.

~Blue~