Potty Fears and Pap Smears

Although I could present you with a post about any number of topics, I have decided to put them on a shelf and save them for a rainy day.

Or a snowy day as the case may be.

After all it is February. In West Virginia.

I had my annual annoyance appointment on Friday and it was too good to pass up. Tell me, what better topic is there to discuss than my trip to the gynecologist.

Yes. You heard right.

To my male readersMcDaddy: You can feel free to exit this post at anytime. I will promise though that I won’t go into great detail about the torture tool, the stirrups or the personal events that take place when one must have THAT examined. All I will say is that its pushed, prodded, poked and papped.

I promise that’s all I’ll say about that.

After navigating my way through the parking garage to an elevator, across a cat-walk, onto another elevator, stepping outside onto the sidewalk, going back into the hospital, down a long corridor, through a waiting room, into another elevator, onto the second floor and finally entering the newly decorated office, I found myself even more annoyed than normal because her last office required two easy steps – parking (for free) and entering her office.

There was something in her “we’re separating” letter about “dreaming of an all-female practice,” and “convenient to labor and delivery rooms,” – but what she failed to mention was that I would need to be armed with a map, $3.00 for parking and an extra thirty minutes to get to and from my vehicle.

An organized woman with a strong will and a sharpie could revolutionize that hospital. There HAS GOT TO BE an easier way.

Anywho.  [side note: Did you know there re people who can’t stand that word?]

After arriving twenty minutes late because the hospital only had seven parking spots (which were all reserved for Doctors), the gal at the window informed me that the Doctor would see me in spite of my being late.

Are you freakin’ kidding me?

My mind immediately went to last year’s visit. I waited two hours to be seen by the Doctor only to have the nurse inform me that she would not be able to see me that day because she was delivering a baby. I had to reschedule for the next week.  Which happened to be a huge inconvenience.

So, yeah, I was taken aback by the whole “she will see you in spite of being late” thing.

Whatever.

As I sat in the office trying to get my blood pressure to return to a normal level, I silently prayed that my sweet Alex would cooperate during the exam.

Yes. You heard correctly.

Me + Alex + GYNO Visit = Possible disaster

I had already bribed him with watching a movie in the van on the way home if  he behaved and cooperated.

When it was my turn, the nurse took me back and gave me instructions to strip down. She reported that the Doctor would see me shorty. I stripped down behind the curtain while Alex examined every piece of equipment in the exam room. After wriggling into the hospital gown, I emerged from the curtain and took my spot on the examination table and placed the white sheet over my legs.

Seconds after getting myself situated my sweet Alex looked up at me and said the dreaded words.

“Mommy, I need to go to potty.”

Sweet hallelujah. You have got to be kidding me.

After quickly weighing both options in my mind, I grabbed my pants, pulled them on and threw the sheet around my shoulders. We scurried to the restroom three doors down and made it just in time for Alex to empty his bladder. We rushed back to the exam room without being seen. I pulled off my pants, breathed a sigh of relief and took my spot back on the examination table. I started through the whole “When the Doctor comes in, I need you stay right by my side and hold my hand while the Doctor takes a look at my leg” spill.

We sat there another ten minutes or so while I answered the 419 questions he had about things in the room. He paused, looked up at me again and said, “Mommy, I need to go poo-poo in the potty.”

Oh! My! Word!

Not again.

Yes again.

So, I repeated the pulling on of the pants, the draping of the sheet and we ran down the hallway. I was fearful we would not make it in time. He jumped on the potty, did his business rather quickly and we returned to the exam room.

Thankfully, my Doctor came in before Alex could decide he had more business to conduct in the potty. My Doctor, (who by the way looks like a Barbie Doll) is cute, friendly, and personable. I like her a lot.

As promised I will not delve further into the actual excavation, but, I will say that the conversation during the procedure always amuses me.  Here I am stretched out in all my glory and we’re discussing Lightning McQueen and Mater. And since that conversation was right up Alex’s alley, he stayed right beside of me while the Doctor “checked on my leg.” I could not have  asked for a better child that day.

Pap smears and potty fears.

Welcome to my world!

Comments

  1. Jean says

    You’ve got to admit — the potty training has come a LONG way, right? 😉 Yea! Alex with an “Xth!” (However, why did you not call upon someone to keep him while you went to your excavation appt?) Love your blogs — did I say that before? You MUST start that book. People are reading this gold mine for FREE! Yikes!

  2. says

    Brave brave woman!

    (My doctor’s office is like yours. If I knew we didn’t live close together, I would’ve thought you were describing how to get my doctor! I finally decided to pay the extra 2 dollars for the convenience of valet parking!)

  3. says

    You are so funny! BTDT with the kids in the ob/gyns office – not fun.

    PS) I am one of the anywho haters – sorry! In my case it may be because of a certain annoying SIL who uses the word incessantly…

  4. says

    Wow. You are a braaaaaaaave woman to take Alex with you to your appointment!! If I didn’t have a friend babysitting my crew, I would talk myself out of EVER going. EVER.

    Especially with a potty training child. He just needed that extra nudge of having momma draped with the tiny sheet in a tiny gown, right? 😉

    Thanks for the laugh! 🙂 I hope you have a better day today.