My Trip to the Hoo-Ha Doctor (also an informal Thursday Thirteen for Tomorrow)

It’s that time of year again: the pilgrimage to the Hoo-Ha doctor! And I knew you would all be dying to hear about it. First of all, it was just a “Jiffy Lube oil-change” maintenance visit, not a “cracked transfer case” major intervention. I have nothing exciting like a pregnancy to report (sorry parents!) Rest assured that you will be the first to know if anything falls out of me, such as my colon or a baby.

I was compelled to add, “Gentle Readers” to that last part, but I stopped myself. Because how do I know you knit mittens and sing to puppies all day? You could all be ninjas! You could lift weights with your necks and juggle chainsaws.

So before the Hoo-Ha doctor came in, the nurse took my blood pressure, weighed me, and asked if I had any allergies beyond that already in my chart. I rambled on about my existing allergy for a minute and then paused before adding, “Well, also cats. I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to cats.” Which they’ll be glad to know so as to avoid using the cat fur-trimmed tongue depressor on me.

And then I was all alone in the room with my little sheet and paper buttmatt on the exam table that felt like a recycled schoolbus seat. I waited. And waited. I waited so long I compiled a list of activities / thoughts that you too can engage in should you find yourself in a similar situation:

1. Read all of the wall charts, remarking at how well you can read them with your new glasses. Stare at the tiny writing while taking the glasses on and off, on and off. Wow! It’s amazing how blind you were before you got your new glasses.
2. Compare own breasts to the “average size of lump” found based on various breast-exam schedules. Conclude that because own bosom is just about the size of the smallest average lump, you have nothing to worry about for now.
3. Feel appalled at how closely a particular diagram of the uterus resembles a whole turkey.
4. Consider peeking into the biohazard waste bin to see what’s in there.
5. Touch the curtain next to you and then recoil in horror, as you are probably now crawling with the ebola virus.
6. Empty glass of Q-tips on counter and use it to eavesdrop on nurses’ conversation through the wall.
7. Study the graphic anatomy posters. Get grossed out and think, I really have a pudendal nerve? Pudenda is a real word?
8. Consider tip-toeing across the room to read the pamphlet entitled “Why your pap smear is better than ever!” (Or something like that.) Then think, “Meh. Who cares.”
9. Pick hangnail until it bleeds and immediately berate self for doing so in a germ-infested room.
10. Take a short nap with your pants off.
11. Sneeze. Conclude that you are probably coming down with SARS.
12. Think about what kind of practical joke* you could play on the next patient and get distracted by gross posters again.
13. Pity poor husband because these days, it takes a trip to the Hoo-Ha doctor for you to shave your legs.
    

I waited so long I could feel the tentacles of age creeping in, massaging new wrinkles into my cheeks and making my bones brittle and bendy. I began to wonder if they’d forgotten about me, and a tiny part of me actually wished they had, because that would have made an awesome blog entry, don’t you think? Finally, after three days, the doctor came in. (Isn’t it amazing how you’re reading this in the future?)

And guess what we talked about during the exam?

That’s right!!! My book! In fact, I talked so much that I had some of my own mouth stick action going on.

Shameless, aren’t I? My doctor seemed really interested and asked lots of questions about it, which rocked. After she pulled the exam gloves off she shook my hand and congratulated me. Which struck me as funny enough to write about it later.

This concludes the Hoo-Ha portion of the post. And now, a word from our sponsors.

Unless something hilarious happens this weekend, this will be my last post until Sunday night. Because like I’ve said before, helper monkeys don’t pay for themselves! And I’ve got scads of terribly exciting work to do. Plus, we’re having a winter storm tomorrow, so I’ve got hatches to batten down and food to hoard.

PS: a few other funny things have happened lately, such as my site getting banned by my friend’s workplace Internet screening tool due to accumulated profanity. Also, last night, I tried to be nice and give J a backrub while he trimmed his toenails, and he shouted, “AAAAAAAHHHHG! You’re sitting on my clippings!” Isn’t that gross? Thank goodness I had my pants on!

*Here’s one: Extend roll of buttmatt paper and use your favorite colored crayon to scribble whimsical hieroglyphics on clean section; roll back up to give the next patient’s appointment a fresh, “modern art” feel.

Oh, one more thing: a mysterious fairy blogmother nominated me for a blog award. Rules, procedures, and pudendums--I mean addendums--to the rules are here. If you vote for me, I'll let you name an inmate in my next novel. Ex-boyfriends are acceptable. Wheeee!