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.