Head over feet

Take a good look at the photo here and see if you can figure out where I went yesterday? No, not Dairy Queen. Nope, it wasn't the bookstore. Try again. No, it wasn't the eye doctor, think lower. . .
You guessed it, I went for my annual gynecological exam. It's the highlight of everyone's year, isn't it?

I am not fond of any medical attention, particularly the kind that requires me to be draped with a huge paper towel, but I know it's a necessary evil and I hope that all of you are partaking of this embarrasment every 12 months. Why? Because I said so.

A few years ago my original doctor retired and I chose a female that is about my age. It's been a good match and she has an amazing bedside manner. For example, she consults with you pre-undressing. Isn't it just much easier to talk with your pants on? Then the exam, which she walks you through each step verbally. Before I just guessed at what was going on down there and prayed I didn't kick the guy. After the poking and prodding, when she announces that everything looks fine and I am healthy, she leaves for me to dress again. Then, back for more questions.

My old doctor (literally old), would talk into a tape recorder while I laid spread out on the table. Each time he would say, "post-30-year-old female, soft abdomen." What the heck? I was insulted. I wanted him to say "amazing, rock hard abdomen". Then, I learned that wasn't a good thing.

The best part about New Doctor is that she's pleasant enough, but no chit-chat. It's so humiliating trying to have a conversation about your new digital camera that you smuggled in, the fact that it's gotten muggy outside or whether or not our community will get a pro baseball stadium. I just want to talk about me and when I can put my panties back on.

I don't know what it is about those little courtesies, but it really does make for a much less stressful exam.

And, here's the kicker, my doctor is now pregant (big pregnant). She's due next month and apparently is not liking being on the other side of the speculum.

This is my public service announcement: get an annual exam. It's not fun. It's not pleasant, but it's necessary. I've lost loved ones to ovarian and breast cancer. Early detection is the key to treatment and recovery. You've heard it all before and I am not gonna start tossing statistics at you. Please, take off your pants, lift your right arm above your head and go annually.