Wednesday, October 10, 2007
In my latest fit of what turns out to be acute hypochondria or, more honestly, a combination of an ovarian cyst and the IBS I have had for years deciding to take it up several notches all at once (I don't want to talk about it. This is a family blog. I'll talk happily and without shame about sex and violence, but I can't handle bowels. We all have our little quirks.) as we know, I went to the doctor. The gynecologist, to be more specific, and not my usual gyno, either, but her partner because she was out of town. My usual gyno knows me and does not take me seriously. Sometimes I find this reassuring, sometimes annoying but there you have it. In general, I am as healthy as the proverbial horse (if horses are so healthy, why did I constantly have to be calling the vet in the wee hours of the morning for my horse Alfie? And then the vet would come and stick a long tube up his nose and into his stomach and all in all it was extremely instructive if you, like me, were 13 years old.) and my gyno thus refuses to worry about me. However, this was her partner, who seems very nice and took the trouble to call me and tell me about my ovary and general health last night.
There was one thing about this doctor though, that threw me a little. Gentle readers, I will not beat about the bush: (hee. Hee. Hee hee hee!) she hummed. Yes, as I obediently scooched down the table with my feet in the stirrups and she took out the speculum, she hummed. I'm not sure what she hummed - it might have been, oh god, Ride of the Valkyries, but let's hope not - but as the speculum went on its merry way she continued humming. A bit louder. It was a little unsettling - kind of charming, I'll give you that, noone has ever before approached that part of my anatomy while humming - but unsettling nonetheless. And also, it's difficult to stay still on a table with your feet up in the stirrups when you are seized by a massive oncoming fit of the giggles.