TMI on gyno visits

Chantal Richards
Chantal Richards

My vagina is a high maintenance bitch. No need to beat around the bush about it.

Women dread going to the gynecologist and it is worse when they have to go multiple times in a year.

I have gone this past week for the “umpteenth” time to the gynecologist and it is not what I consider fun.

Warning: I am going to get graphic and tell you exactly what it is like.

The routine is always the same. The nurse comes in to take my vitals, asks about my sexual history and asks what problems I am experiencing.

She tells me to strip from the waist down and cover myself with a long sheet of paper towel

I sit there in my naked vulnerability, looking at the wall where the female reproductive system stares back at me.

Finally, I hear a knock and the doctor comes in.

She instructs me to put my feet in stirrups and asks me to scoot down until my bum is hanging over the edge.

The spotlight is on my vagina, making me feel it’s about to break into song.

“Spread wide. Wider. Now just relax,” the doctor instructs.

The doctor turns to put gloves on, as if she is about to go digging for an archeological find.

She turns to me smiling while bringing out a speculum that reminds me of a medieval torture tool and looks like a silver alligator about to bite me.

It doesn’t help that the speculum is there to spread me wider and reveal my hidden cervix to the world.

Once I am spread wide open, two gloved fingers are inserted into me while my abdomen is being forcefully pushed down.

I can’t breathe enough to relax.

It hurts. It’s uncomfortable.

I feel violated.

The doctor can’t tell what’s wrong with me and brings out a plastic, white dildo-looking thing, which is actually an ultrasound the doctor inserts into you.

She slowly unwraps a condom, covers it with lube and smiles as if this is going to be a pleasant experience.

She has found the problem.

As she is writing the prescription, I am left to wipe away the lube that dripped onto the paper covering I sat on and I get dressed.

The nurse comes back in and asks me if I am ready to make the follow-up appointment for next week. As if the memory of this last one will have vanished by then.

 

Chantal Richards can be reached at [email protected]