So, today is a little party all about your worst OBGYN stories, being hosted by:
Brillig, over at Twas Brillig and Amy from The Butrfly Garden. The whole point being that we share our most horrific stories about the people who we need, but don't always get along with. Go over to their sites, and you can sign up if you wish to participate today. I'm a little late to the party, but I usually am.
Thankfully, I don't have too many horror stories about OBGYNs, but there is one guy who sticks out in my mind.
It was late in my last pregnancy, I was close to bursting, when I began to have a little spotting, and what I thought were contractions.
So, off to the hospital we go for a quick check. My OBGYN, a lovely lady, said to just let the doctor on call do the check-up, and if I needed her, she was only a phone call away.
The doctor on call that day looked like he was about a decade past retirement. Nice enough guy, southern drawl, white hair, but stooped over and shuffling. It never occurred to me at the time the stooping might be from bending over to peer inside various female cavities over the hundred years or so he seemed to be practicing.
There was very little fanfare...
"Okay girl, off with your pants!"
"Um, do I at least get one of those paper towels?"
"What?"
"Do I at least get something to cover me up?"
"Why would you need that? It's not like I haven't seen the female anatomy before!"
He shouted. A lot. Mostly because he couldn't hear himself, I'm pretty sure. So, I hopped up on the table and the nurse gave me a weak smile, as if she really didn't want to be there, and handed me the giant paper towel to drape over my legs.
"Alright, now, young lady, I've been keeping this speculum in the freezer, just for you!" He let out a wheezy laugh. Apparently, I was supposed to find the idea of a frozen speculum amusing. Then I got a glimpse of it, and it was huge.
Girls, here is something I've learned. Speculums, like men, actually come in different sizes. So, if the one being inserted in you is uncomfortable to the point of shouting "Get that thing out of me!", you do have options. And you should ask.
At the time, though, I didn't have this handy piece of information. And I was not happy. Ray looked concerned at the contortions my face was going through.
"Um, is it supposed to hurt her this much?"
"Hurt? Why no, son, she's just uncomfortable! It's a woman thing. I don't think you'd understand."
It took forever, and I was starting to wonder if he was mining for precious metals underneath the sheet of paper.
And then I heard it.
It was faint at first, and I looked over at Ray to see if he heard it too. I was met with a look of puzzlement.
It was humming. I could hear humming. And it was the Bob Hope classic "Thanks for the Memories". It got louder, and louder, until finally Doctor Geriatric emerged from under the sheet in full blown song.
"Thaaaaaaanks for the memories!"
I knew then I'd have a memory to last forever.
