Stayin’ Lively: My 2007 Annual Exam

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’d rather get my teeth drilled than go to the gynecologist, but they’re pretty close together on my list of least favorite things to do. However, I did take my own advice and suck it up this month as I do every July, because it was time for my annual exam. This may be one of those too-much-information posts, so if you’re not interested in commiserating with me over the details of my visit, or if you happen to be a male relative or former or current client and find knowing these things just a little too weird, you might want to skip this one.

Still here? Great! Well, first of all, I was stressed because I had to change doctors since we moved and I’m now way too far away from my old OB/GYN office to make the drive. I used to use Planned Parenthood, and this move meant switching to a grown-up doctor. For real adults. Like one my mom would use. How weird. I hadn’t been to one of those since my first visit, back in high school, when my mom insisted that I use her doctor and accompanied me, which, for the record, was beyond awkward.

Aside: This is not to say that there’s anything lacking in the quality or maturity of Planned Parenthood. On the contrary, I was extremely happy with them. And the fact that I knew my questions would be the least interesting ones they got all day made me feel like I could ask or divulge anything and it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. (Not that my sex life has ever been particularly scandalous, mind you. But when you’re a 20something married chick who’s been withe the same guy for years, isn’t pregnant, and has no serious medical issues sitting in a waiting room full of teenage girls and their incredibly uncomfortable boyfriends, you just know you’ll be the most boring client of the day, or maybe even the week. It’s kind of a relief.)

Second, I had therapy right afterward (how’s that for planning?), and after I sat in the waiting room for almost 40 minutes before being called back, I was good and stressed about not making my next appointment. In fact, they were running so far behind (how exactly do you manage to be an hour behind already at 9:30?) that I actually had to call my therapist’s office on my cell phone while in the exam room in my paper vest and sarong combo as I waited for the nurse practitioner to come in and do the exam so I could tell her that I was being held hostage at the gynecologist’s office and might be late for or even miss my appointment. There were no magazines, so instead I read my Pap smear lab request form for about 20 minutes. I don’t want to ruin the ending or anything, but the grand finale is, you guessed it, a Pap smear.

Third, I always dread the assistant’s questions when they first take you into the exam room (that, and getting weighed. Our scale broke like two moves ago and I have never replaced it, so my annual exam is about the only time I weigh myself). I know I’m a hypocrite, but it’s not my fault: I just don’t remember to do my breast self-exam every month. I’m lucky if I remember three times a year. Of course, when I admitted this, I got that motherly disapproving “Tut tut” and a dramatic swish of the pen on my chart. I always feel like crawling under the exam table at that point. But then, when they take my blood pressure (which, incidentally, makes my heart race for some reason), I am redeemed because it’s always very low and they think I’m so healthy that it makes up for being an irresponsible breast owner.

Aside: I wonder how low my bp really is since I start having palpitations the moment they move toward the blood pressure cuff. It’s so bad that I have to tell them to do it once in the beginning and once at a random time during my visit without telling me ahead of time so I don’t have a chance to get anxious about it–but of course my breath gets short as soon as I realize what’s happening.

Fourth, I had to go through my entire medical history before the exam because their fax machine was messed up and they couldn’t receive my records from my old doctor’s office, so I felt like I walked into a surprise midterm in a class I’d never heard of. Yes, someone on my mom’s side had breast cancer, like four generations ago, and somebody on my dad’s side had heart disease, but I’m pretty sure those people died before my parents were even my age, so I have no clue of the specifics. But it’s all in my medical record, which is apparently trapped somewhere in the fascimile netherworld, so who knows?

Fifth, I had to confess that I’ve been so terrible about taking my birth control pills on schedule that I finally stopped taking them altogether and needed to request a different form of birth control that was harder to forget and didn’t involve anything that is progesterone only, which tend to make me gain huge amounts of weight in very short periods of time. And I kind of feel like we’re just a little too old to be buying condoms, you know? (That, plus ever since I tried to open one I don’t even remember how long ago and it shot out of the package and directly into my eye, leaving me half blind and stinging like the dickens, I’ve been kind of afraid of them to tell you the truth. But I digress.)

So, long story short (because believe it or not, this is the short version), I weighed in at 134 lbs fully clothed, managed to get a clean bill of health despite waiting f-o-r-e-v-e-r for my exam, and left with a free month (and a coupon for a free second month!) of NuvaRing, a once-a-month vaginal contraceptive that offers–get this–a free downloadable OR portable timer to remind you when to insert and remove it. Do these people know me, or what?

Now to psych myself up for next year. 360some days should be plenty of time, right?

How do you feel about your annual exam? Any tips? Any horror stories? Leave a comment!

Contents © Copyright 2007 Kristen King