Thursday, April 02, 2009

Why I walk funny.

I have returned triumphant from my gynecologist's office.

Or, at least, the ratcheting speculum didn't get stuck and I'm not dragging my butt across the carpet anymore.

My doctor follows the Henry Ford model of gynecology. Systematic. I was disappointed in that I had to put on my own gown and hoist myself on the table without help, but after that each poking and prodding had it's own station and I was moved about in a most efficient fashion. Almost like Disneyland.

First I went to the Henry Ford trans-vaginal ultrasound station. That's inside zapping rather than outside zapping for you Chevy people. They found a cupholder but no cysts. This made me happy.

Next I was moved to the Henry Ford female fluid checking station. That is, I peed in a cup and then got weighed. A nurse ticked off my symptoms on a chart and pronounced that I was most likely not pregnant and complimented the thickness of my beard.

Now onto the Henry Ford pelvic exam, pap schmear and breast exam station. This is where I'm placed on a rotary, that ratcheting doohickey is used on my chassis and the doctor checks my headlights. The doctor agrees with the nurse that I am most likely not pregnant and compliments my beard.

Then the Henry Ford female quality control check. This is where I whine to my doctor about having hot flashes, sore boobs most of the month, pimples, an apathetic libido, foggy brain, a dwindling sense of humor and a lush silky beard. The doctor reiterates that, indeed, it is a handsome beard and I moodily give him the finger.

It's determined at this point that I could use some progesterone in my life. Doctor Ratchet suggests I use the Depo-Provera shot to this end. I suggest that the Doc, in more polite terms, go bite it and reiterate giving him the finger. Depo-Provera? Oh hell no. I'm never allowing that tool of Satan into my body. But my doc is a good man, an understanding man, and instead prescribes me the mini-pill which has the benefit of not being in my system for months on end if something goes horribly wrong, which it will, because no one uses that stuff and likes it.

Down the line we get to the Henry Ford sado-masochistic poke me with a needle station where three vials of blood were to be drawn. Girl hormones need to be checked, and boy hormones, and thyroid and my cholesterol. I am not a good blood draw. I tell the nurse this. In an effort to find a willing vein I've had blood drawn from my hands, my wrists and my feet. The nurse compliments my beard and proceeds to poke my inner arm and gets one on the first try, with nary a bruise or nerve damage to speak of. This rarely happens with me so I compliment her on her poking skills. We are best friends now. Sisters for the cause.

At the end of the line is the Henry Ford pay up and get the hell out of the office station. I pay up and on the way out I show the receptionist my Scooby Doo bandaid. She compliments my beard. Twat.

It's encouraging that it seems to be only menopause yet discouraging that I'm 34 and it seems to be only menopause. I'm not done with my sexy years.

I have taken my progesterone pills for two days and I have not had a hot flash.

I HAVE NOT HAD A HOT FLASH! God bless Henry Ford!

I still have the beard though.

Shuddup about that.


  1. Wow, its does seem like everyone likes your carpet,,,errrr beard. Question though; how did the receptionist see it? Did you forget to change out of the gown before leaving their office?

    As for that "dwindling sense of humor," i think something is terribly wrong. If i were you, i would ask for a refund, at least a partial one. Because your sense of humour isnt dwindling at all. I am laughing so hard at your blog that i am scaring my cat!

    When drawing blood did you ever pass out and wakeup in the ER? I passed out in the elevator after giving blood and woke up in the ER. Yeap, i am a woos.


  2. Wow. A cupholder. Is it one of those with an absorbent lining and adjustable gription?

  3. Becky, this is one of the single finest pieces of gynecologic blogging I have ever encountered.

  4. I have progesterone pills to take myself, and I'm not even 30 yet. I sure hope it's not menopause for me, although I think I was tested for that with my uncooperative veins being sucked dry, and I think that was ruled out. I wish doctors would explain things better sometimes.

  5. I sure hope it's not menopause with you either.

    I don't know that doctors can explain it better. There is such a wide range of NORMAL that finding your normal is like finding a cotton ball in a snow storm.

    I don't even know if I've found normal but I do know that I've found better in such a short time period. We'll see. One thing the doc did explain to me, as an odd happenstance, that beginning early menopause isn't odd in monogamy where one of you has been sterilized. Even if it's HIM. I'm going to do some googling on that because that is just so interesting to me.


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