Not One word!

Not one word! She did not say one word to me about it! All that worry. All that embarrassment.  All that rescheduling of appointments, for nothing!

Apparently, too much time has passed for her to remember what transpired between us an entire year ago.  Or... sadly, I'm not as memorable as I like to think I am.  Or... the big, fat, sticky note fell out of my file.  Either way, thank God!

This visit was routine in every way. There was the usual banter, with absolutely NO mention of "The Incident." There were no suspicious glances, no roundabout comments, which could be implied as inquisitive--in any way.  It was just business.  

Following the appropriate questions and comment section, there was the physical exam:

the breast exam, 

the pap, which, apparently, will only be happening every 3-5 years from here on out as "I'm low risk,"

the pelvic, which prompted her to comment, "oh you're so cute and slender I can just feel EVERYTHING!"  That's a compliment right?

And then, the finale:  the rectal exam.  Yes--I am THAT old.

My God I could never do this job!  Actually, the whole process made me think of a conversation I had recently with Nora Jane, who, remember, is eight.

Since Nora had no school last Tuesday, she got the benefit of  accompanying me to my physical therapist.  During my treatment, which consisted of butt and hamstring massage,  (wow I'm really spilling TMI in these posts)  Nora just sat quietly writing a story, reading and, of course, carefully taking everything in.  So much so, that when we got into the car afterward, she said, "I could NEVER be a Physical Therapist!  She put her hand in your butt!"

After I quit laughing, I replied very matter-of-factly, that she did NOT put her hand IN my butt.  She simply massaged my butt while treating my hamstring.  In Nora's eyes, however, these two actions are the same.  And both equally disgusting.

And this, people, is why we do NOT bring our eight-year-olds to ALL of our medical appointments.  

S-

P.S.  

I should note that as I was scheduling next year's appointment, L- walked up to me, leaned in close and whispered,"You look good today.  I'm so glad you're feeling better emotionally." Damn!  She didn't forget.  The sticky note is still there!  

As I walked to the car, though, I realized I was glad she said something.   For despite a little embarrassment, her comment made me remember why I've been coming to her for over twenty years.  Because she is kind. And because, unlike me, she doesn't make a big deal out of things.  

HAPPY (?) ANNIVERSARY

Though, technically, it's been a little more than a year, today is the one-year anniversary of my last visit to the gynecologist.  And I can't can wait.  Actually, I have been waiting.  I was supposed to go see my lovely midwife, L-, last November.  I feigned illness, however, and cancelled my appointment.  It's not that I hate going for my "yearly" any more than I hate going for my annual doctor or dental check-ups, it's just that, during my last visit to her office, I had a bit of a breakdown.  A breakdown that came out of nowhere.  A breakdown that is still haunting me a year later.  

I have pondered and written about the cause of this incident repeatedly during the past year, though neither my thoughts nor my written words have been made public.  Because I was embarrassed. I was ashamed.  

Thus, my biggest fear in seeing her today is not having to spread my legs for her, while staring nonchalantly at the ceiling tiles, all the while acting as if this is a very normal way for women to interact with one another, but hearing this question: "how have you been doing?"

Given that I haven't seen her for a while, this is certainly a reasonable question.  One that all of the medical professionals I have encountered in my life usually start their visits with. It's the same question I hear from friends or family when I haven't seen them in a while.   It's just that I know her question, will have a deeper meaning.  And it will refer to the big, fat, sticky note with the words: "Crazy Lady: Treat With Caution" which I'm sure she promptly placed inside my file last year, after I left her office, via the back door.  Her question frightens me because, in asking it, she's going to want to enter my psyche.  And believe me, even I don't like venturing there. For if I do, I will have to face up.  I will have to answer her, to answer myself.

Am I fine? Have I done anything to change my life?  Was that "minute in my life," really just a one-time deal?  Because that's really all it was; a minute.   Not nearly enough time to warrant the time and energy spent reflecting on it, wondering why it happened, and how to prevent it from happening again.

And it hasn't--really.  I have been "fine."  As we are all fine.  However, if I were to honestly answer the question that I know is coming, I would have to say, "I'm okay."  I haven't made great strides to create a meaningful life, a life with purpose.  For that takes direction and my compass is still spinning.  It also takes work, or more accurately, a work ethic, which I, too, have.  I'm just not sure how to put it to use these days.  Finally, it takes courage; which I may or may not be lacking.

If only I listened to myself as well as my college daughter listens to me.  Lately, when she calls for advice, or is scared of the future, she really listens to me.  And she acts upon my words.  (shocking, I know)  And, of course, because I know everything, (ahem...) the next day, or the next minute, she is fine; right back on track.  But she is brave.  I made her that way.  And it was NOT easy, but I didn't want her to be completely like me.  :)

So I'll go.  This morning at 9:45 I will sit in the waiting room, surrounded by baby pictures and pregnant women, who are just starting down the path of motherhood. I will endure the poking and prodding, both literal and physical.  Then, on the way home, I'll keep my eyes open. Watching the signs, looking in all directions--for new roads, thus far untraveled.  


S-

Happy New Year! .... Still

Who says the holidays are over?
Who cares that Valentine's Day is just weeks away!

Not THIS kid! 

Either she's not ready to say goodbye to Christmas, or she didn't have the desire to dig deep into her shirt drawer.  Whatever her reasons, Nora decided to wear this today:

Well, at least I'm getting more than one wear out of her $5.00 Target shirt.  

Now if she'd just stop growing through her jeans!  She's going to have a LOT of cut off shorts this summer!  


Happy New Year Still!