For Your Amusement...

...or alternately titled: Things That ONLY Happen To Jeannie!!

...or If You Think YOU Have Had A Rough Day...

...or Nightmares From The Family Practice Office...

Jeepers creepers are you guys in for a laugh. I told this story to Thomas on the way home from the hospital yesterday, and he was laughing/crying so hard I thought he was going to get us into a wreck. Well, hardee har har har!! Shit is always funny when it's happening to someone else, isn't it?? I'm sure I'll find it funny too. Someday. When my embarrassment dims a bit.

Warning #1: If you're a guy, skip this post! Seriously, go away. You've been warned.

Warning #2: Don't eat or drink while reading this. I will not be held accountable for anyone choking to death!

OK, here goes.

Both Bella and I had doctor's appointments yesterday afternoon. We were both due (well, I was kinda sorta overdue, ... by like six years) for checkups and it was one of the eleventy-billion steps we have to take in order to PCS to Italy. Oh yeah, for you civilians, PCS stands for Permanent Change of Station, ie moving. The military lurves it's acronyms and no, you may not buy a vowel, thanks for playing.

No one, other than my husband, has been sneaking a peek at my hooch since Bella was born. Stop laughing. I'm being serious here. I mean really....who has time to go to the doctor when you aren't sick?? Nothing was growing lumps or bumps, no discharge, no funky odors, nothing falling out, so....why go looking for trouble right?? Shut up. I KNOW!! I know I'm supposed to go and from now I will. OK? And boy oh boy they are just ITCHING to squeeze the ole mammeries too, but I said no thanks, I'll pass for today.

So. This was Jeannie's brain yesterday morning:
1. I hadn't been to the hoochie doctor in almost six years. That isn't good. Probably fine, but...well, who the hell knows, right? STRESS!!

2. I will not get my super, duper official stamped okie dokie permission slip to go to Italy, until I've been checked out by a doctor as not having anything seriously wrong with me. Well, physically anyway. STRESS!!

3. Going to Italy is my lifelong dream that is now within my grasp. Unless....STRESS!!

4. Unless...something is found so wrong with me that I wouldn't be able to get proper care over there (or cheaply on post versus expensively off post), so would not be approved for the move. STRESSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, of course, knowing I had this lovely appointment hanging over my head, I didn't sleep a wink. Not.At. All. Toss. Turn. Not a happy camper at all. I just know they are going to find some funky, rare disease because I don't do anything normally or easily!!!! Bottom line? As they say in the south, I was one hot mess.

Thomas thought this was funny. See? Told you he was a jerk! Not really. Just sometimes. So he teases me. Cause it's fun and I'm an easy target when I'm being ridiculous. And yes, I know I was being ridiculous. But you know what else? I was scared. I was afraid that I was just going to get thisclose to having everything I've always wanted ....only to be denied at the last minute. Don't you feel like a schmuck for laughing at me now?? Don't worry. You're going to be laughing again soon.

So, whatever. The time comes when we have to go. My stomach is turning and my heart is racing. Bella goes in first. We got there insanely early - totally Thomas' fault!!! - and I sit there filling out some form which has nothing new than what is in my medical records already. I swear they only have you fill all that crap out just to catch you in a lie. I only lie about my weight. And you are totally gonna catch me in that lie in about five minutes when I get on the scale, so whatever.

I have never been to this office before. It is HUGE!!! And there are fifty million people there (I'm seriously claustrophobic, no lie), with all their screaming, sick, runny-nosed brats running around. Babies up the ying-yang, all crying. People with special needs kids, also crying. I had a headache (which went so nicely with my stomach rumbling btw!), within 14 seconds. I got to wait an hour. So you get the picture right?? Super duper stressed out, no sleep, stuck in the ginormous waiting room of freaks for an hour.

So I finally get called back. First they check my weight. Ha!! If all the other shit wasn't enough to make my blood pressure skyrocket, that alone was. Then it's time to actually check my blood pressure. The nurse freaks out. Also not good for my bloodpressure, fyi!!! She blames the cuff. And makes it tighter. For the first time in my life, the stinking thing hurts! A LOT!! So I undo it. That really makes the nurse upset. So she makes it tighter still and tells me to relax.

I'm not the kind of person who takes well to anyone TELLING me anything. Especially when I'm stressed out and I don't want to do whatever you are stupid enough to tell me to do. It was a real deal breaker on my incredibly short military career.

So having been told by the nurse to relax....grrrrr.....I try to. Ever try to relax under stressful situations?? Yeah, didn't work for me either. So she starts getting more freaked out. Am I having chest pains? Shortness of breath? Family history of heart attacks or strokes? WTH??? Yeah lady, great bedside manner you've got. I'm so mellow I'm about to float away on cloud of marshmallow fluff......

She takes it a couple more times, each time it's a bit lower than the last. I told her I was positively stressed out to the max and I'm really ok.

Then she takes me to an examination room. Can anyone explain to me why those darn things are so stinkin small??? They bring you to this teeny, tiny room and then leave, closing the door behind them. I'm claustrophobic people!!! Normally, I get up and open the door. They hate that and I always get yelled at for it. They'd yell more if they saw me having a panic attack!! But luckily for us all, the doctor was quick about getting his hiney in to see me.

OK, the doctor. He was wearing a wedding ring but had his eyebrows seriously manscaped. Weird. So weird that it was kinda hard to listen to anything he was saying. He also almost never made eye contact and I'm a real big eye contact person. Again, weird. So he asks me a bunch of questions and it comes up about why I'm here today. I explain that although I do know you are supposed to get checked out every year, I'm really only here to get cleared to move to Italy. Then I get a bit teary. And by a bit teary I mean I start blubbering like a total fool.

I have to hand it to Dr. Eyebrows that he maintained his cool while completely eliminating my distress in short order. The sign-off-on-your-medical-records-people (not really what they're called) just want to see that you've been seen recently by medical personnel and that you don't have any major medical issues. Oh. Well, cancel the stress then!!

So now the talking part is over. He says to put on the gown, open side to the front and then drape the sheet over my lower half and sit on the table. He also says not to wrap the sheet around you like a burrito, just drape it. For some odd reason this strikes me as insanely funny and I laugh so hard and loud that I snorted. He looks at me like I'm a total loser.

But whatever, I'm finally feeling better about everything! It doesn't last long.

So I get undressed and neatly fold up my clothes on the chair, being sure to tuck the unmentionables in between my shirt and jeans, and out of sight. I mean really....he's gonna see all my lady bits in a second but God forbid he sees my bra, right?? We women are so weird. Then I unfold the gown to put it on. Houston? We have a problem!!

This is hardly my first rodeo, but that sheet of fabric with so many snaps on it as to appear positively bedazzled, has completely unnerved me. What.The.Hell. The doctor is gonna be back here any second and I'm standing there nekkid trying not to freak out over the "gown" which isn't. POPTARTS!!!!! Stress? Welcome back!

I never did figure it out. And I'm really not that stupid normally. Just sayin. So I said eff it, hop on the table, and drape both over me. I'm feeling like a moron. But feeling like a moron is going to sound good in a second.

Remember how I said my stomach was doing flips before? Yeah, that. So now I have to fart. In a teeny, tiny broom closet of an examination room. Are you kidding me???? So thinking quickly, I figure it's better to just go ahead and let 'er loose, than to fart in his face. Not a lot better, but some better. Out pops a super tiny fart. Oh good!!!! Wait a minute.....oh no!!! IT BURNS!! It's gonna stink!!

And it does. A lot. A lot a lot a lot!!!! I'd really like to know what my blood pressure did then, lol!! So I'm like, ohmygod he's coming and I stunk up the room!!!! So I'm frantically flapping the gown that wasn't and the hospital sheet to air out the broom closet. Flap, flap, flap, sniff. Flap, flap, flap, sniff. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of psycho bird I look like. You're picturing this, aren't you? You're laughing your ass off at me, aren't you? Don't worry, it gets worse.

When I think it's dissipated, when really I'm probably just used it, I smooth out the sheets and try to collect myself. Ha!! The doctor and nurse come back in. They both look at me like I'm nutters. The blood pressure nurse is back. Seeing my sweaty, stressed out looking face, I'm sure she's convinced I'm going to have a heart attack any second. They exchange glances that confirms I've been discussed already. Lovely.

I'm asked to lie down and we do the whole booby massage breast exam thing. I didn't want to use the gown?? No Doctor, I'm too bonkers to figure out the bedazzling snaps. Oh. Nutterness confirmed. Fabulous. But we're half down, praise Jesus.

Now tell me dear blogger Reader, why is it that no matter how freaking far you scooch your butt down, it is never, ever enough?? Really! You scooch and scooch but it's always the same story. This is no different. I swear they like to just mess with your head or something. I hate this part. I reallllllly, realllllly do. It just feels so damn uncomfortable and my cervix doesn't like it. In goes the giant q-tip, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. I HATE THAT!!! It does not "tickle my fancy" one little bit. But it's ok, we're really almost done now!!

Not so fast.

It's at this point that Dr. Eyebrows asks Nurse Bloodpressure, "Do we have a larger speculum?" What.The.Hell?????? No way! I totally felt the giant q-tip go wiggle, wiggle, wiggle so that means we're almost done, so no way Jose!! Way not fair! Foul Ball!!!!

Of course this calls for a Jeannie Quote. Something so outrageous that it's quoted again and again. Usually at Christmas parties. Everyone needs a niche, right? So this was mine...

"Oh for Pete's sake!! Are you telling me that my va-jay-jay is all big and fat too??"

Go ahead, take a moment. I'll wait.

Yes, I really did say that. Outloud. In a very outraged tone of voice. Whatever rope I had been clinging to, I was at the very frayed end of it. Nurse Bloodpressure completely lost all professional decorum and lost it. Totally. So great. I have a fat va-jay-jay and now she's laughing at it. Doctor Eyebrows is much cooler about the whole thing. He gently holds one calf and says, "Oh no, nothing like that. Your cervix is just backwards, and upside down like a chandelier and I need to get up deeper to get a proper sample."

Like I said, this is hardly my first rodeo and I've NEVER heard such a thing. About my cervix or anyone else's. I guess it was supposed to make me feel better. Talk about your epic fails...

So out goes the original, should-have-done-the-trick-already speculum. Instant relief. Wait a minute............OH NO!!!! I totally have to fart again. For real. DAMMIT!!!!!! It takes every ounce of self control to hold it in. I simply cannot endure any further embarrassment. I'm actually wishing for a heart attack now. I mean, no one is going to ridicule someone for farting when they're having a heart attack, right?? But a pelvic exam? Yeah, way not cool.

In goes the larger speculum. Oh for the love of doughnuts....are you freaking kidding me?? Doctor Eyebrows is inserting a VW Bug up my hooch!!!! And then he says, "OK now, you're going to feel a bit of pressure." Pressure?? As he ratchets that thing open I feel like I've become a parking garage!!! It echoes!!! I'm just gripping the table praying he hurries his ass up because it is seriously killing me AND I'm caring less and less about holding that second fart in by the nanosecond.

There. He's done. He says everything looks fine, upside down chandelier cervix and all. Fabulous. Now go away so I can quickly get dressed and get home already!! He says to enjoy Italy. Whatever dude. They leave. I fart (it was really long and loud too - whew!). I get dressed. I'm outta there!!!!

It may be another six years before my upside-down-chandelier cervix gets checked again. I'll bet I made you totally forget your silly ole worries now, didn't I???