Making my doctor earn every dollar of that co-pay

I know a few guys who would have gladly worn this t-shirt to the bar back in their day.

My annual visit snuck up on me. By sneak up, I mean, I remembered it, and tried to not think about it. It's not that it's so bad. It's just not so fun. I also try to avoid thinking about scheduled root canals, democratic debates, and the line at the DMV when I have to renew my license. All things can be neglected if I really need to, put off per se, but are all necessary. So, I bear down and do it.

When that appointment nears, each year, a woman can't help but daydream as to how they could make this a better visit other than adding knit socks to the stirrups. Really, they should accessorize those paper gowns that open in the front. Might I recommend a glittery tie, or a leopard print belt? Perhaps, for a small fee, like, $5 or something, offer a pedicure package while you're there, in the stirrups and all. Oh, maybe even a pumice stone foot holder stirrup. Yummy!

In the process, at some point, I decided to write down questions I thought of for the doctor. You know, ladies. The questions you've always wanted to ask your lady-bits doctor, but once you're in the stirrups, you've lost all pride and gumption, so you just sit there and listen to lady-bits doctor describe her every move. As if that will make it more fun.

I wrote the list down, adding to it when something crossed my mind and promised myself that this is the year I'd ask the pressing questions.

Back when I was in grad school, I had fellow colleague who had a sister who was an OBGYN. And at study session, after a bottle of wine, we'd get to giggling about something, and she'd tell me all the funny stories her sister told her. To my horror, I discovered, according to the colleague that doctors supposedly prefer you shave...and I'm not talking about your legs. Or your armpits. By to my horror, I mean, I don't shave there....The Wonderland. With my lack of grace and coordination, combined with a razor blade and my vajayjay, I don't think so. And don't you go wincing on me about my refusal to shave. Ms. Thang down there is well taken care of, well groomed.

Still, I digress. So, I've always wondered about the credibility of my colleague and her sister and the theory to shave or not to shave, that is the question.

I go in, the nurse takes all my vitals, and says there's a student shadowing Dr. and is it okay if she comes in with the Doctor today? I say something like, "Sure, but you better warn the student that I have questions. Serious questions, and I'm not afraid to ask today. She'll get quite the education on how to keep a straight face in front of a patient."

I must have alarmed them, because Dr. Lady bits came in all by herself. I love my doctor. Primarily because she helped me with the single most important break up of my life. Ladies, you know the break up...the one with Aunt Flo? The woman single-handedly (no pun intended...well, maybe intended just a little) liberated my entire being as a woman. SERENITY NOW! But moreso, she just seems like a very down to earth and if need be, ridiculously honest person. She'll tell it to me if I need it...told...to...me.

She comes in and simply says, "I hear you have questions."

And I fire away. Now, I've worked this up brilliantly. A little warm up at first, and then sneak in the big stuff. So, I get out my comedy book. Because I keep one with me to jot notes, very funny notes, down and when I thought to ask her these questions...it seemed comical, and I needed paper to write on, so there it is. Your comedy notebook is more sacred than a locked diary. No one looks at it. It's unwritten law. So, the questions were safe in there. But, Dr. Lady bits has no idea I'm now involved in comedy, and so I think the lil fat notebook was somewhat alarming. I fire away.

The warm up questions were things that concern only me, and my situations. Very standard, don't you worry. Then I got into the shaving question.

"Okay Dr. I've chatted with my girlfriends about this for years, and I've just resolved to get your answer and then call all my friends and tell them."

"Uh, Ok."

"Are we supposed to shave Downtown or not for you?"

"You mean, shave, for me? For your annual visit?"

"Well, not for my man. If he wants me to shave that, then he'll have to shave his too. Yes, for you and this fine visit."

"Wow in all my years, I've never been asked my preference before." She's blushing at this point. "No, you're not supposed to shave. It's actually more awkward to have it, uh, bare down there."

And yet another liberation from Dr. Lady Bits. THANK YOU!

A slight pause and then she says, "Really? You ladies really worry about that?"

HELL YES WE DO! And I cannot believe she's never been asked this before. But what I said was: "I've polled my girls, and yes, indeed, we do worry abou that."

"That's so sweet of you to care."

I promise her, from this exam forward to make a concerted effort to bring one good question each year. A question us ladies have pondered on. A question that at best, will help share a good giggle, as well as some enlightenment. It's what I do, share the laughs, share the knowledge.

As you can see, I don't like the technical terms of anything to do with my nether-region. Which, we discussed. She asked what I have my kids call their parts. There's a wild debate out there - haven't you heard - that we should be teaching our children the correct term. You know - the term that rhymes with angina. Ofcourse I choose to use a different term with my kids because quite frankly, I don't like the word, so I really don't want it screamed at me 30 times a day in a grocery store, at a restaurant or in church. I really don't want that. We have our own special terms. I tell her what they are, and she says to me, "That's good. I just can't see a 3 year old saying the word (rhymes with angina.)"

This is the best annual exam I've ever had because she's just validated me TWICE. And bonus: she gives the most gentle breast exams ever! God Bless this woman. She is so getting our Christmas card!

She leaves me to get dressed and says,

"Thanks for the best visit I've had in a long time."

In case you're wondering, yes, I get that a lot.

That's how I roll.