I hate going to the doctor for ladies. HATE HATE HATE It has always been my least favorite thing to do. I would rather jump out of a plane. But yesterday I had to go. Every 5 years I have to visit the torture chamber and my time was up. I tell myself to imagine I am being tortured for Christ. Well I realized yesterday that I will not survive being tortured for Christ.
I chose a doctor based on her picture on the hospital website as to who looked the nicest. Well, when I called to make the appointment the doctor wasn't available, so I just took whoever they gave me. She looked nice when I saw her. And really, she was nice. But she wasn't gentle. And being gentle is more important to me in this position.
I explained to the doctor what I needed done and she told me that usually they do it under anesthesia. But I told her that I had done it twice without being put under and I knew it would cost a lot more, so she agreed to do it in her office. Actually, we had to go to the exam room down the hall. I was told to get undressed. No gown was handed to me. The doctor and two nurses did not leave the room. We just all stood there while I dropped my drawers and climbed on the table.
Then the torture began. She got her sharp metal instrument ready and cleaned me with iodine. I squirmed and tightened all the muscles in my body. That did not help with the exam, which hadn't started yet. But neither did the shaky bed I was laying on or the wall I was pushed against. The doctor decided I needed to be on a better table, with better light, and stir-ups. So I got dressed and headed to the labor and delivery room. I again had to get undressed in front of several ladies and jump on a table. But the stir-ups did not keep me from pushing as far away from the doctor as I could and I told her it would be better if I had the anesthesia. I got dressed and dejectedly walked out of the hospital, trying hard to hold my tears in and push it all deep inside me.
I chose a doctor based on her picture on the hospital website as to who looked the nicest. Well, when I called to make the appointment the doctor wasn't available, so I just took whoever they gave me. She looked nice when I saw her. And really, she was nice. But she wasn't gentle. And being gentle is more important to me in this position.
I explained to the doctor what I needed done and she told me that usually they do it under anesthesia. But I told her that I had done it twice without being put under and I knew it would cost a lot more, so she agreed to do it in her office. Actually, we had to go to the exam room down the hall. I was told to get undressed. No gown was handed to me. The doctor and two nurses did not leave the room. We just all stood there while I dropped my drawers and climbed on the table.
Then the torture began. She got her sharp metal instrument ready and cleaned me with iodine. I squirmed and tightened all the muscles in my body. That did not help with the exam, which hadn't started yet. But neither did the shaky bed I was laying on or the wall I was pushed against. The doctor decided I needed to be on a better table, with better light, and stir-ups. So I got dressed and headed to the labor and delivery room. I again had to get undressed in front of several ladies and jump on a table. But the stir-ups did not keep me from pushing as far away from the doctor as I could and I told her it would be better if I had the anesthesia. I got dressed and dejectedly walked out of the hospital, trying hard to hold my tears in and push it all deep inside me.
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