Blah blah blah, I've moved.
Part of moving that only one person really mentioned to me is finding a new doctor. I found my new doctor, who I enjoy, but I haven't really liked the birth control I've been on for the last year so he recommended I go to a Ob/Gyn to talk about my options. This idea alone scares me because that's the doctor you go to when you want babies and I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but I don't want babies for a VERY long time, if ever. But I scheduled an appointment anyway and trekked down there. The entire process of scheduling this appointment, the nurses and I have said that it was just going to be a consultation about switching my birth control. That's it. That's all I expected and I was quite happy with just that.
I met my Ob/GYN and we chatted for a long time about options and what the one I'm on now is doing. He said that the type I'm on can cause depression which almost made me shout, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." But instead I just shouted, "THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE." Seriously, the last year now makes sense. I was having spells of depression for absolutely no reason and I couldn't figure out why. Turns out it was because I switched birth control pills and the one I switched to made me the kid sitting in the corner that even the emo kids didn't want to talk to.
We're finishing up our consultation and he's telling me what he's going to prescribe me and then he points to the table and says, "Okay, time to do the pelvic exam."
I didn't know this was part of the deal. Why? Why. Just. Why? I had a pap and everything two weeks ago, surely I don't need another strange man to poke around my vagina. But no. I don't get to compromise about this.
I change into the gown, which this time was fabric unlike two weeks ago which was a very noisy paper gown, and I sat and waited to be poked, I noticed that the music from the waiting room was being piped into the little examination rooms as well. I was sitting in my fabric gown jamming out to "Hey Ya" and singing along, minding my own business and generally not paying attention to the music.
The doctor came in along with the nurse and the not-quite-resident that he was training, which I don't know if you know but four people in a small examination room makes it quite claustrophobic but I dealt with it. The doctor listened to my heart and did a breast exam (when did breast exams turn into grown men pretending to knead your boobs like cats? Seriously, the two I've had in the past two weeks have both been like the doctor was trying to do his best Maru impression on my boobs, something that I did visualize and then had to quickly forget about as they played with my boobs like giant kittens). As he asked me to lay back before listening to my heart, Phil Collins' "In the air tonight" started playing. Remember how I said the music was piped into the exam rooms as well? If I had to pick a more awkward song, I don't know if I could. So there I am, being felt up by a man trying to be a cat on my boobs, while the definition of '80s drum beats is playing in the background and just when I think it can't get worse, the pelvic exam starts.
Next time you think that your pelvic exam can't get any more awkward, because let's face it, they're generally awkward by nature, I mean, you have a robot duck being shoved in places it shouldn't be shoved usually while a nurse is asking you questions about your life (Where'dyougotoschoolWhat'dyoumajorinWhatbringsyoutoJacksonvilleHowareyoulikingitDoyoumissIndiana etc) and an old man is fondling parts of you that you didn't know could be manipulated that way, just think that you could have Phil Collins singing at you too.
I knit today too but it's decidedly less exciting/awkward than Phil Collins Pelvic Exam.