Having recently completed my annual visit to my favorite gynecologist (he's probably the only gynecologist that I actually know), I've come up with a few additions I think would make the whole gyno experience more enjoyable. Enjoyable? That's not the right word. Tolerable. Yeah, more tolerable.
1.
Socks. The nurse always apologetically hands me the two gowns: The open-sided gown goes on top and the plain sheet drapes casually over my netheryeahah. And I take them and nod my head in a "This is a necessary-evil" kind of way, disrobe and sit casually on the magical chair waiting my the doctor to enter. I know that my slow and mournful head-nod would become less mournful if she'd also had me a pair of tube socks. There's something about glancing up and seeing naked feet in the stirrups to remind up really how exposed we are. Plus, tube socks would eliminate the need for #2 and #3 below--it's efficient if nothing else. Give us socks, and I know we'd feel so much better about it. Am I right or am I right, ladies?
2.
Pedicurist. If you won't give us socks--because we could bring our own, right?--then at least have a little Asian nail artist in the waiting room to slough off our scaly heels and paint up our piggies. We really can't do much to change the look of our hoohas, but we can control our feet. Who has the time, though? Between softball practice and back-to-school shopping and cat wrangling, our feet are neglected. So, have someone there to make our piggies pretty, and we'll feel better about spreadin' 'em.
3.
Electric Razor. I shave as carefully as I can before the big day, but it's not easy to get a close shave with two daughters, two cats and a random dog in the bathroom. Having an electric razor in the changing area for touch ups would really do a lot for a girl who's about to loose every ounce our self-esteem that she has left when the magic chair starts sliding her backward.
4.
A Chair With A View. I know my gyno maintains that I'm in the chair, basically hanging upside down clinging to the stirrups with my toes, for less than five minutes, but in my head it's about three hours. And when I look up to distract myself from the little off-track trek that my gyno is taking, all I see is a white ceiling. There's nothing distracting about a white ceiling. Instead, there should be a poster of a kitten hanging from a limb with a caption that reads "You think you have it bad." Or maybe we could be viewing a ceiling mounted flat-screen with
Hangover 3 playing so we know that we don't have it that bad afterall. Or, if the doctor wants to go for the ultimate distraction, put a video of Ryan Gosling up there actually reading his "Hey Girl..." memes. That should do the trick.
5.
Headphones. I adore my doctor, but pretty much once we both are in position and he says, "Relax," I try tune him out. He, however, continues to have a conversation. "
How are the kids? Brian? What'd you do this summer? I saw you were on Dr. Oz. Do you really think he's a real doctor?" And I, because my mother raised me right, feel obligated to answer every question. But, because I'm in that position, the answers don't always line up. "
Fine. Great. Holy smokes, are you using a power tool? I think I'm falling on my head. Are you touching my spleen?" If I had headphones, I could distract myself (and him) from any awkward small talk while my insides are being explored by what feels like a Tonka truck.
