It’s that time of year again, folks.
The time when I put my legs in stirrups at my doctor’s office and thank my lucky stars he’s more experienced than the doctor I saw in my early 20s.
Wait a minute.
Did you miss that post last year?
Then make yourself a cup of cocoa, sit back, and enjoy a laugh on me today as I recount the story of the worst pap smear I’ve ever had.
I had just moved to a new neighborhood and my health benefits had finally kicked in at my new job, so I decided it was time for a full body probe to make sure I was in good health.
Actually, I needed more birth control pills and had exhausted all of the walk-in clinics in the city, so I knew the only way I could get another estrogen-progesterone cocktail hook-up is if I scheduled a Pap smear at my doctor’s office..
On the day of my appointment, I was given a paper gown and ushered into an exam room to undress.
Now, we all know doctors do not return for at least 10 minutes once they tell you to take your clothes off, and since I had a meeting that afternoon, I made a conscious effort to take my time and fold my clothes nicely.
Imagine my surprise when my new doctor came barging in not 2 minutes after he left, finding me completely naked while attempting to hoist myself up onto the exam table.
After he finished the basics (listening to my lungs, taking my blood pressure, and examining my girls), he ran out to grab one of the female nurses to chaperone my pappy, started prepping his instruments, and I laid down.
I was immediately blinded by the sun streaming through the window directly in front of me. The nurse explained the blinds were broken and handed me a binder to shield my eyes with.
You can imagine how ridiculous I looked holding that binder, right?
The nurse then started talking. And talking. And talking.
Was she nervous or something?
About 30 seconds into the exam, I realized why she might be nervous: my new doctor had obviously only graduated from medical school an hour before I arrived. He actually started to coach himself through the procedure, reciting the steps out loud as he went along:
“First we apply lubricant.”
“Next we open speculum package.”
“Then we insert speculum.”
“No, wait. First we warm up speculum. Let’s start again.”
It took him FOUR attempts (with FOUR different pre-sterilized speculums) to get that instrument properly in place.
And on more than one occasion, I actually felt a couple drops of sweat fall from his forehead onto my legs.
And that nurse never stopped talking for one minute.
When I was finally on my way back to the office, I felt like I was doing the walk of shame.
From my doctor’s office.
Worst. Pap smear. Ever.