You know when things are going very wrong, but you think to yourself, "Well, this sucks, but it's going to make for an awesome blog plost (or story, for those that don't blog)?" Have you ever gotten to the point where it sucked so bad that you tried to fix it, at the expense of losing your precious, hysterical material?
Have you ever had things end up so fucked up that you tried to fix it and ended up with blogging material anyway?
That's where I'm at today.
So today I had my first real gyn appointment since having Parker. I'm on my last 2 weeks of birth control pills left, so I desperately needed to keep this appointment, even though it meant that I had to take Parker with me.
I drove 20 minutes to a clinic that ended up being primarily a charity clinic (aka, a medicaid clinic). Do you have any idea how these places work? Because I do....since medical students and residents typically run them.
This place was totally stereotypical for a medicaid clinic: TONS of people waiting, lots of people not speaking english, overbooked physicians with no sense of hurry or efficiency, and babies EVERYWHERE.
The only thing I had a problem with was waiting a long time, and the only reason I cared was because I had Parker with me.
Parker, on the other hand, thought I had brought him to the KING OF ALL PLAY DATES. He was SO excited to have little people to play with. He was giggling at everyone, and making this weird screech he makes when he is so excited he doesn't know what to do.
His bliss quickly turned to anger when he realized that he wasn't allowed to crawl up to everyone and poke them/taste their body parts/climb in their laps/pull their hair...etc.
I knew this was going to be bad.
I called my mom to see if she could come get Parker. Despite the fact that blogging about the pelvic exam and pap with Parker in the room would probably be funny, I needed to abort the blog material and get rescued.
My mom's crappy GPS couldn't recognize the address, so she's on the phone with me "mother-f-ing" the GPS when I get called in by the nurse. I told mom I'd call her back but not to worry about finding us, we would be fine and somehow get through the visit.
The nurse took my temperature, blood pressure, and then asked me to step on the scale.
Umm...did I forget to put Parker down? Is this thing calibrated properly?
No, you are not still holding your baby, and yep it's calibrated. That's your weight. There ya go, in case you needed a reminder that you had a baby and your body will never be the same. But don't worry, there will be other reminders at this visit that your body has changed forever. Stay tuned!
So we get to the exam room and my mom calls and says that she thinks she has figured out where to go.
Except she hasn't. She keeps saying, "I'm passing a Burger King. I see a Chinese place. There's some trees. It looks like I'm entering a city." Seriously, she said those last two.
"It looks like I'm entering a city."
Really, mom? I don't know what to tell you. I'm across from the hospital in a shitty clinic that is next door to a laundromat. Roll down your window and listen for Parker screaming in frustration because I won't let him mouth the biohazard trash cans.
My mom, bless her directionally-challenged heart, finally comes to my rescue. She takes Parker and we switch cars, since she doesn't have a car seat.
Finally, I can breathe.
And breathe I did, for AN HOUR, until the (extremely crunchy) nurse midwife came in to see me.
But right before she came in, I get this picture via text from my mom, with the caption, "locked out."
FML. FML. FML.
Enter crunchy, super nice, hoop-earring-and-ankle-length-skirt wearing midwife.
She takes my history, leaves so I can undress, and comes back in.
Here is where the "your body has been ravaged by a baby" reminders begin.
The breast exam.
It took negative 3 seconds to perform, because if my boobs were small to begin with, they are nothing but nipples now. If there was a lump, you'd see it...no need to even feel for it. And it would be called "my breast" because that's all that would be there.
Then she does my speculum exam. Have you ever heard of a clinic that heats their speculums? I haven't.
It's fucking weird to have warm metal inserted in there.
Again, very crunchy.
So she pops open the speculum and says, "Oh you have your period."
Oh, really?? Since when?
Since the stress of the prior hour resulted in uterine cramping and bleeding. Is this possible, you ask? Yes. Yes it is.
So after all that, I can't get a pap smear. I have to reschedule for a visit in a month, at which time I am getting Implanon inserted in my arm, so I don't have to deal with this shit for 3 years.