I had to make a little visit to Ye Olde Female Doctore this past Monday. I've had a few ...um... issues I've been dealing with over the past few months and I finally decided to bite the bullet and make an appointment. So I loaded Charlie into Phil the Burb and off we went to the OB/GYN's office ~ broken ankle and all.
(And no, I'm not pregnant. Now you can rest easy. Especially my sisters and sisters-in-law.)
I was a little nervous about going to the doctor because I haven't been to see Dr. Z. since I was expecting Hope and actually left her services for those of a midwife when I was 4 months along. I didn't know if she would be offended or irritated over the fact that I had birthed two children without her assistance and I didn't even want to think of how she might, you know, get me back.
Anyway, the nurse gets me (and Charlie ~ stroller and all) into the room and takes my history ... yada ... yada ... "oh by the way, I've had two more children with a midwife" .... yada ... yada ... ::eyebrow raise:: ... yadda ...yadda. Weight check (2lbs lighter than the last time! woo-hoo!) at which I had to take off the blasted boot!! Blood pressure check (118/72). And then those famous words we females all love to hear,
" Here's a sheet, go ahead an undress from the waist down."
Dang. So much for small talk.
I realized rather quickly that undressing was going to prove more difficult than usual. My boot wouldn't fit over my capri pants, so I had to completely remove it before I could even attempt to undress. By the time I removed the boot, undressed and put back on my boot (while naked I might add ~ I apologize if you just threw up in your mouth a little ), hobbled myself up onto the table and applied my
Sweating has been an issue with me lately. I don't sweat. I perspire a little, but rarely do I do a full on hard sweat. Except for lately.
People. I've been sweatin' like a hardened sinner at a Pentecostal tent revival in the middle of July. Buckets, my friends. Buckets. This was one of the reasons I was at the doctor this particular day. I'm afraid that even at 40, I'm still a little too young for, you know, the change 'o life hot flashes!
As I sat there waiting (which in my mind is the absolute worst!), one would think that my glands would get the message. I wasn't doing anything active, just sitting, yet the sweating was getting worse! I had brought a magazine with me and began to fan myself. I figured that would help.
Nope. It only got worse.
About 5 minutes later I realized it was going to take a little more that Southern Living to take care of this particular diaphoretic episode. The back of my thighs and rear were beginning to stick to the white paper on the exam table and I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. I had to take drastic measures.
I grabbed the sheet and began to furiously fan myself, throwing the sheet into the air and abruptly back down, shifting my weight from one side then to the other, desperately trying to get some air into my nether regions. I knew that if the doctor were to walk in while I was fanning myself with one side of my hiney perched into the air, she was going to assume that I had ... uh .... been gastronomically expressing myself or something.
Right about this time Charlotte decided to wake up. I wriggled myself down the table far enough to scoot her stroller a little closer to me. It was at this point ~ while I was attempting to wriggle ~ that I realized the lovely white paper had pretty much glued itself to my backside. I grabbed the magazine and once again began to fan furiously, trying to unstick myself from the paper and the vinyl. It wasn't working.
Then the doctor walked in.
I won't say panic set in because by that time I pretty much knew my fate was sealed. I just decided to ride the wave. Dr. Z. played and chit chatted with Charlie for several minutes and then she noticed me fanning myself. She asked whether I thought it was hot in the office or if it was just me. I let her know that this was one of the reasons I was in to see her ~ my profuse sweating.
Momentarily I thought just maybe I was gonna get out of an exam. But nope. She called for her nurse to come in and pulled out the lovely stirrups. Then she asked me to scoot down the table.
I just sat there. How was I to tell this woman I was physically bonded to her examination table with my own perspiration? She looked at me and I began to stammer.
"Uh. Well. I'm sort of stuck to the table ...hehe...or rather the paper is stuck to me....hehe....I told you I was sweating a lot!"
I then leaned over to show her the saturated white paper adhered to my backside. She seemed nonplussed by the whole situation and sort of exclaimed,
"Oh my, you are sweating a lot." ::someone just shoot me now::
Then she tells asks the nurse if they have any chux pads. A CHUX PAD, y'all!! For sweat!
Once they find the chux pad, Dr. Z. asks me if I can lean over so they can just slip it under me. Um, no. Because once I leaned over the stupid white paper tore from the table and came with me! I had to stand up (half naked!) and then PEEL white paper from off of my butt and thighs!!! It wasn't coming off easy, either! Oh, no! It was all rolling up and coming off in bits and pieces! At that moment, I seriously couldn't believe that this was my life.
I was apologizing profusely and the doctor, being the amazing woman that she is, just kept helping me peel the paper from my backside and telling me that I couldn't help it. Once most of the large pieces were stripped away, I quickly sat back down where the doctor proceeded to do the examination.
Quite honestly, I don't remember much after that because my Mortified-'O-Meter had just gone off of the scales and I was absolutely dying of embarrassment. She basically ordered some blood work, another test and in a round about way said my ovaries had HAD it. Or so she thought. She said a few other things I don't remember and then said she'd see me in a few weeks and left the room.
I sat there, every ounce of dignity gone, looking at the shredded paper on the floor, wondering what I had ever done to deserve such a horrifying experience. I stepped down from the exam table so I could get dressed and guess what? I STILL had to peel more paper from the backs of my legs and rear! It was at that moment I had to laugh. And once I started, I couldn't stop.
As a matter of fact, I chuckled all the way home. I went out with some girlfriends that night and when I told them the story we laughed so hard we cried. It was especially funny when I was demonstrating in my storytelling of how I was leaning to the side on the exam table and then realized I was fanning my backside with a menu! I'm fairly certain the other patrons in the Olive Garden were pretty much displeased by this little demonstration.
So what have I learned from this experience? Well.
- I've learned that exam table paper is most definitely not waterproof.
- I've learned that when exam table paper is wet, it adheres to skin quite well.
- I've learned to always ask for TWO sheets ~ one for cover and one to sit on.
- I've learned I could probably make a fortune if I could come up with waterproof exam table paper.
-I've learned that if you lean to one side and fan your backside with a menu at a popular restaurant, you will get funny looks.
-I've learned not to take myself too seriously.
I mean really. If you had been the nurse's assistant in that room that day, would you not have gone home and totally laughed your tale off telling your family about the lady with the sweaty paper stuck to her backside?!?!
I so totally would. And I did.