Actual Things: Going To The OBGYN: Part II (This Is Primarily For Other Moms. If You’re A Man You Might Not Want To Read This)

Over five years ago I wrote about a particularly awkward trip to the gynecologist. You see what happened was, after the birth of my second child I had a cancer scare after a routine exam. It turned out to be okay, but I had a lot of follow up appointments for a while and my daughters weren’t yet in school full time so on this particular day, my sitter cancelled last minute and I had to take my two curious little ones with me into the room for a pelvic exam. You can read about it HERE.

Today I went back to that same OBGYN office for an exam. (And before you ask, I’m not sick or pregnant, praise the good Lord.) As I checked in at the front desk via the sanitized iPad, I noticed a tower of business cards that caught my eye. The first name I saw was Dr. Healy, which I mused was a cute name for a doctor. Then I saw the second card of a one: Dr. Rips. I chortled into my mask as I hastily took a picture to send to my friends.

Now if you’ve never experienced the miracle/indignity of childbirth, you may not see why this is particularly funny, but there is something many women experience in the whole life-giving process that starts with an “E” and ends with an “otomy” and the thought of someone named Dr. Rips handling this scenario was just too hilarious for my immature mind to process.

After texting all my friends and stifling my giggles as their replies rolled in, I was called into the exam room. It was not a regular exam room, it was a special low-lit lab exam room. See, I had to get an ultrasound, and not the kind where they just wave a wand over your belly. Let’s just say the call was coming from inside the house.

As I looked past my knees to see the TV screen projecting my innards in black and white, I glanced over at the wastebasket in the room and noticed that someone had discarded a box of Lean Cuisine. The flavor you ask? Why, “Classic” Macaroni and Beef, of course.

First of all, who the hell has ever heard of “Classic” Macaroni and BEEF? And who is eating this over the garbage can in the small, dimly lit exam room where they probe people and display it on closed circuit TV?

Sometimes I feel like my life is one long episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.

I texted this picture to my mom’s friend who was a nurse for many years and she offered the explanation that perhaps this person was having lunch in that room because of “social distancing.” I said, “I’ll tell you the only thing that was social distancing…my ankles in those stirrups!” HEY-OH! She then replied that I was “entertaining” which is like the word “stunning.” Neither are inherently positive or negative. But that’s what you get for giving me your cell phone number, Linda.

And those are the actual things.


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