Friday, June 28, 2019

If You Happen Upon a Wayward Cervix, It's Probably Mine

Summertime means different things to different people, for me, it means that it's time to play the part of an actual adult, which means surrendering myself to the annual spelunking of my nether bits. You see, kids, adults take responsibility for their health and well being by allowing professionals to stick medical instruments into their various orifices on a regular basis.

Bet you can't wait to grow up, now!

So, earlier today, I shaved my legs, donned my best undies, and headed to Neighboring City to visit my primary care physician. Or, in this case, my primary care physician's Physicians Assistant (say that ten times fast), since the doctor assigned to be my primary provider was out of the office.

Again.

I say again because, out of the last three times that I have been scheduled to see her, she has been out of the office, oh, let's see...all three times. Actually, I've never met the woman.

But, that is a gripe for another day.

The PA was very thorough, she asked all the right questions, took my vitals, chatted with me about the ravages of perimenopause, and, then, when we were feeling good and comfortable together; she had me strip down so she could get familiar with the happenings down in Cooterville.

Except, what should have been a fairly routine procedure ended up looking more like an episode of America's Most Wanted, when, and I kid you not; she ran into trouble finding my cervix.

And, I was like, well, I'm positive that's where I left it, soooo...

And, she was like, huh, that's weird.

Then, she said 'Oh! There it is!" But, that she was having a hard time "catching" it because "It's like a big vein that keeps moving!", and, the fact that I did not throw up right there on the examination table is a testament to my self control.

I knew when she finally "caught that slippery devil" because, I felt her rubbing a cheese grater over it for about thirty seconds or so (you might feel a liiiiitle discomfort, dear!), and, with that, it was over. What a relief! I'm not sure a picture of a missing cervix on a milk carton would be the most appetizing thing for a kid to stare at while eating his Froot Loops.

Anyhoodle, that's over for another year or two. Now I just need to schedule my annual mammogram and my first colonoscopy.

I sincerely hope my colon proves easier to locate than my cervix.



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