I had my annual OB/GYN appointment today. It was an interesting experience, to say the least. First of all, I got there an hour early. I thought my appointment was at 1, but it was actually at 2. "Great," I thought, "Now I'll be here forever..." My gynecologist is very popular and always double booked. His appointments usually run a half an hour behind, minimum.
I went back to the waiting area to begin what I feared would be a very long wait. I was pleasantly surprised when I got my name called only a few minutes later, had speedy and painless blood work done, and then got called back quickly by the nurse. "You're the first one here this afternoon, so you get to jump ahead of the line." The nurse said as she walked me towards the ultimate torture device (aka, the scale). "Same as last year!" She remarked cheerfully as she wrote down my weight. I guess I should be happy that it wasn't higher than last year's weight, but I was hoping for a miracle loss of 10 pounds since I stepped on this morning's bathroom scale.
We got back to the exam room and she took my blood pressure. "116/70," She told me. I have no idea what's good or bad for blood pressure, I've just always been told mine is fine, so I feel stupid when they tell me the result and look at me like I'm supposed to know what that means. "Is that ok?" I asked. "That's good!" she replied. That's cool.
She asked me a few more questions, told me to get undressed, and headed towards the door. It wouldn't open. She tried it again. It was stuck. "We've been having problems with this door." She explained. She jiggled the door again. And again. Then she called the nurse's desk and said, "Can someone come let me out of Dr. L's exam room? The door is stuck again." So another nurse came from the outside to let her out. The door wouldn't budge.
Now might be a good time to mention that the nurse was hugely pregnant, due 'any day' according to our small talk at the ultimate torture device earlier. She jokingly said, "You'd better hope I don't go into labor." Um, yeah. I'd bust the freaking door right down if that happened.
We waited for about five minutes while they called maintenance team. The nurses were messing with the door all the while. "Good thing this happened with me, instead of when you're in here with Dr. L while you have your clothes off." The nurse cheerfully quipped. Yeah, I suppose this is better than that would be. Marginally. Dr. L isn't hugely pregnant.
"You don't have to pee do you?" I joked thinking that personal questions about bladder capacity are only allowed when aimed at hugely pregnant ladies in circumstances like this. She assured me that she was good for at least another half an hour in that department.
The nurses finally jimmied open the door and decided that they had to tape the latch shut so that it didn't get stuck again. But with the latch stuck, the door wouldn't stay closed, so the nurse told me she'd stand guard by the door while I disrobed and put the sheet around my nether regions.
Dr. L came into the exam room, fully updated about the door situation. He ripped off the tape so that the door would close, and I eyed the door questioningly. "We'll pop the hinges off if we get stuck again." He said and began with the breast exam. No biggie. Then came the fun part. I scooted down, put my feet in the holders, and was in my very most vulnerable position (lit up by the exam light to boot!) when we heard the maintenance guy outside. He started fumbling with the door. I was mortified. The nurse and the doctor shouted "NO!!" at the same time. The nurse ran to the door and yelled, "We have a patient in here! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!!" She promised to guard the door for the rest of the appointment. Just in case.
By this time, I was beet red, and ready to get the hell out of there until next year. "We're going to be a real clinic someday." Dr. L joked. "See you next year!" And out he went, having no trouble opening the door.
I got dressed and then tried the door myself. The effing thing was stuck again. I tried it. I tried again. I knocked on the door to see if any nurses, or the maintenance guy, or someone, were standing outside within earshot. No luck. I tried the door a third and fourth time. I went to the phone and found the extension for the nurses station. "This is Joy..." one of them said when she picked up. "Joy, I'm stuck in this room again and can't open the door." I said. "Oh, you poor thing!" She said and came to help. She wiggled the door a bit, and was able to open it up.
I came out of the exam room (Finally!!) and the maintenance man was there waiting to fix the door. I got about ten steps away from the door when he yelled, "Miss! Miss! You left your shirt in the room!" Wha? I looked down making sure that in my haste to get the hell out of Dodge, I didn't actually forget to completely dress myself. My shirt was safely on. The nurse looked in and said to the maintenance guy, "Oh, that's the sheet patients use to cover up."
The look on that poor man's face was enough to make me smile. "Oh, um, sorry." He mumbled. He was clearly miserable about his mistake. I'm guessing that he's not real clear on the protocol for gynecological exams.
I raced out of there and decided that it was a good thing I took the whole afternoon off, instead of just part of it. I needed time to recover. Or at least time to formulate my blog posting. :)
Photographer of the Week: April 10 ~ 14, 2017
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