This Charming Man

I apologize in advance of this post for its lengthiness and abject RANTING MC RANTYPANTS nature — oh, and totally farked punctuation, grammar and … ANYTHING, but Jesus.

Well, THAT was interesting. If by interesting, you mean eye-pokingly awful, then yes, my visit to the gynecologist was interesting! I’m trying to control myself here, but if you’ll allow me a moment of totally freaking out, I would really appreciate it, because what I really feel like doing is screaming something like this:

EW EW EW EW!! GET AWAY!! GROSS!! OH MY GOD!! DO NOT TOUCH ME!! YOUR TEETH!! YOUR CREEPY HANDS!! YOUR EVERYTHING!! OH MY GOD!! GAAAAAAAH YOU ARE HORRIBLE!!! YOU CREEPY AWFUL GYNECOLOGIST!! OH MY GOD!! STUFF YOUR BASAL BODY TEMPERATURE CHART WHERE THE SUN DOES NOT SHINE PLEASE!! I MEAN DO IT SOMEWHERE ELSE, AS IN NOT IN FRONT OF ME!!! OH MY GOD!!

There. I feel a little better, don’t you? And you should know that I did scream these things in the car on the way home, and I also stopped for a bottle of wine and it took all the resolve in the world not to bust it open and start drinking at 3 p.m. because again: GAAHHH EW OH MY GOD! (Imagine those written in cartoon letters over my body, like in Batman! POW! VOMIT! FURY!)

So yes, in other words, THINGS DID NOT GO WELL. I don’t even know where to start really, except to say that my Florida gynecologist was about half an inch away from pumping me full of Clomid and progesterone for what is likely a luteal phase defect, but because it was like Groundhog Day every time I talked to him coupled with our impending move, it never materialized. Well, that, and a whole year of finger-pointing between my gynecologist and my endocrinologist in manner of “It’s her thyroid!” “No, it’s not!” “Yes it is!” “No, it’s GYNECOLOGICAL!” “No, it’s her thyroid!” and so on …

Back to the visit: the doctor not only didn’t want to discuss my thyroid OR my menstrual symptoms and within five minutes of our conversation — which was held in his office, with the door open for all to hear — he announced that his solution was to get me started with a basal body temperature chart and that, surprise! Did you know a woman is only fertile at a certain time of the month and that if I want to get pregnant, I should focus on SPECIFIC DAYS OF THE MONTH? BREAKING NEWS.

It is at this time that I stabbed him in the face with his monogrammed letter opener.

A BASAL BODY TEMPERATURE CHART. THAT IS YOUR SOLUTION. Never mind that I *have* charted in the past, and I *have* used one of those goddamn fertility monitors and OH YES, I have USED THE STICKS, TOO. This isn’t my first rodeo, buddy. THIS WHOLE THING CAME ABOUT BECAUSE OF A CHART. THAT I BROUGHT WITH ME. HELLO. HERE IS MY DEFECTIVE, LUTEAL PHASE DEFECT-LADEN CHART. WHICH IS WHY MY LAST DOCTOR WAS ABOUT TO PUT ME ON CLOMID AND PROMETRIUM. BUT YOUR CHART, THAT’S WAY BETTER! THANK YOU!

Oh, and he considers a luteal phase defect to be a “trendy” diagnosis from the 1980s and he doesn’t believe it’s an actual problem and he seemed dubious on anyone having fertility issues ever (“If you’re charting properly, it shouldn’t be a problem!” Ha. HAAA. Infertility: It’s All In Your Head) and I was waiting for the suggestion that I pee under a baobab tree in lieu of actual treatment. And really, a holdover from the ’80s, Mr. BBT? Like a BBT chart is the most modern tool ever to cross his desk? A HOLDOVER FROM THE ’80S.

HOLD THIS, BUDDY.

(Disclaimer: charting is lovely! Really! I have “Taking Charge Your Fertility” too! I AM AWARE OF HOW IT WORKS. BUT IT IS NOT A SOLUTION, ONLY A DIAGNOSTIC TOOL.)

OH OH AND: Do you remember “While You Were Sleeping” with Sandra Bullock when there’s that whole scene where someone is LEANING, and she’s all, how can you lean inappropriately? No? Well, why would you, but anyway, I am here to tell you that leaning can be inappropriate. BECAUSE HE LEANED. He leaned against me inappropriately. HE LEANED. He was SHOWING ME THE BBT (please kill me now) and HE LEANED. AGAINST ME. HIS WHOLE CREEPY BODY LEANED AGAINST ME WHILE I WAS IN MY PAPER ROBE. He did this despite the fact that I was VERY CLEARLY leaning in the opposite direction. AND HE WAS SORT OF LECHY. NO NO, HE WAS TOTALLY LECHY. I know, you’re thinking leaning isn’t that bad! YOU WOULD BE WRONG. LEANING IS VERY BAD AND VERY UNCOMFORTABLE.

It is at this point that I contemplated dying, and it is also at this point that I will tell you that I am flat-out ashamed of myself in that I let him proceed with the examination of my ladybits anyway, DESPITE being TOTALLY CREEPED OUT and I sort of hate myself for not standing up and running away and I am an idiot. And I’m also way grossed out and kind of … well. That’s enough of even thinking about that. But if you could see my face right now, it looks like I ate a plate full of unsweetened limes coated in Sour Patch Kids. GLARGHKETUHGH. I’m horrified. I’m just thoroughly horrified beyond all words and I can’t even go into the details because it sounds so VAGUE, but you know how it is: creepiness is always vague, unless someone is forcefully ripping your pants off. (There was no pant-ripping, I assure you. Only vague lechery and BBT charts.)

And the worst part is that he’s one of several OB/GYNs at the local hospital and all I can think of is that I’m going to eventually have a baby and he’s going to be the one on call and the FIRST FACE my child sees upon entering the world will be his and I think we might have to move. Except not really, because thank God, I got a recommendation for another one from a sympathetic nurse and THIS IS WHAT I GET for taking a recommendation for a gynecologist from a dentist, is all I’m saying.

Hey, um, happy Wednesday! MAY IT BE BETTER THAN TUESDAY.

*mumbles angrily about a basal body temperature chart. OH THANKS, BUDDY. A BASAL BODY TEMPERATURE CHART. HOW INNOVATIVE. Oh, he told me that I would need a thermometer. THANKS FOR THE TIP. I DIDN’T KNOW THAT’S HOW YOU TAKE A TEMPERATURE. I THOUGHT YOU HAD TO BAY AT THE MOON.*

**The Smiths, of course. And he was anything but charming.

41 comments March 18th, 2008