GYNO- MITE Entertainment at Chestnut Hill Hospital – ‘Gyno-mite’: Ob-Gyn visit can actually be fun, fun, fun




[contact-form][contact-field label=’Name’ type=’name’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Email’ type=’email’ required=’1’/][contact-field label=’Website’ type=’url’/][contact-field label=’Comment’ type=’textarea’ required=’1’/][/contact-form] Ladies and gentlemen, do you neglect yourself by not going to the Dr.s? Whatever Dr. you have been avoiding, whether it’s your dentist, proctologist or an overall over-haul. I’m here to encourage you to take care of yourself and to keep your eyes and ears open while doing so. You never know when life is going to give you with a reward of laughter for doing the right thing. When you least expect it, comedy karma will hit you, as it did me. I had the best time at the gynecologist last week! I know, how could that be? Read on, there’s hope in self-care.

I decided to do a very grown up thing because I’m a grown up but don’t feel like one. Going to the Dr.s is a rare occasion. I went to the gynecologist for my girlie parts check up last week. I don’t go to the Dr.s unless I am in horrible pain. I don’t dislike doctors, I just won’t take the time out of my to busy life to take care of myself. I feel fine, why bother? I also don’t want to know if I have some heinous disease like, let’s say cancer. No one wants to hear that, ask anyone who has cancer, it’s a total bummer.

I avoid Dr.s visits. I learned this from my father, God rest his soul. He went to the Dr. and found out he had cancer, hence the “rest his soul drama.” My father never liked going to the Dr.s because: 1. He was Irish. I don’t know if this is an Irish thing, a generational thing, or a personal opinion but I will quote him here “doctors have nothing good to say.” 2. We Irish don’t go to the Dr.s unless we are in horrible pain, stated previously. I grew up in an era where you didn’t go to the Dr. for every sneeze, headache or scrape like people do today. Unless a bone was broken which I did a few times, or you needed stitches, yes I did that too, we pretty much would spit on a cut, slap on a band-aid and go back OUTSIDE to play. Have a sore throat?, gargle with hot water and salt. Same symptoms, simpler times.

Today I have insurance, thank you Mr. President! There were a few years when my kids and I didn’t, so medical insurance FEELS like a luxury, which it is not, so I’m going to use it. My Catholic childhood guilt knows that many people today don’t have insurance or they don’t use the coverage they have because they can’t afford the co-pay. Shame on me if I don’t use it! I set up this appointment a few months back. My ticket came up so off I went to see the Dr.

I’d never been to this Dr. so I wasn’t sure of the offices'(?) location. I was told it was located at the Women’s Center at the top of the hill. Awesome! I know the building. I park, go in and after a semi-lengthy wait find out I’m in the wrong building. I need to go to the Women’s Center located in the hospital. OK, now I’m an hour late. I called over to the Dr.s office secretly hoping they would need to reschedule me but no such luck, they said “come on over, fourth floor.” I had a token for parking from the Women’s Center so I wouldn’t have to move my car and pay to use the lot. Therefore, I had no excuse not to follow-up. If I didn’t have that token, I wouldn’t have gone. I think the hospital parking should be free, that’s another story for later. Across the grass I walked over to the hospital, go up to the office and here the fun begins.

I get in line to sign in. I love books so when I see them, I’m like a beagle hound dog on the scent of a squirrel that is specially trained to find, chase, point and howl at its prey, knowing that her actions will be rewarded with praise and treats. I know the beagle breed, I had a beagle named Lucy, God rest her soul. She went to the Dr.s. Do you see the pattern?

While standing in line my sense of smell and observational skills activated. I started to feel excited. My blood started pumping faster, my awareness was heightened and then I saw it, a book. My tail shot straight up, I struggled to refrain my howl and I zeroed in on it, eyesight only. In front of me an older woman, let’s call her Madam X, perhaps in her early 60’s, who was holding a book. IT WAS “FIFTY SHADES OF GREY”! If you haven’t heard of this book, basically its soft chick porn about S&M… a romance novel. The line moves forward and my fellow literature lover steps to the window. While ease dropping I hear the receptionist ask “are you married?” No she replies. Then Madam X offers that she is divorced and single… and I smile. Now my brain has flipped into full comedy mode. I am laughing to myself and thinking, lady you are in the right place, hold your head up high and good for you! Just then Madam X notices that I noticed what she was reading and tries to subtly cover it with her purse. I’m thinking, hey there’s no judgement here and this is why.

I completely identify with her feelings, I’ve had the exact same ones. Last June my son’s school had its annual discount Barnes & Noble night for summer reading event. It was there that I bought the same book. I also felt pressure to conceal it. My son attends a Catholic elementary school and “Fifty Shades of Grey” is not exactly a Penguin Classic. I didn’t want anyone to know I was having S-E-X, which I was whispering in my head. I started to get paranoid and began to feel flushed, and I hadn’t even read a page yet. How was I going to buy this without anyone asking “What are you buying?” Right then, on the spot, I hatched a plan. I would smuggle it out between two required fifth grade summer reading books to the counter unnoticed, pay and escape sight unseen into the parking lot to the safety of my car. Well while in line, trying to blend in inconspicuously, I see that the women in front of me is buying one too! Could that moment been unconsciously preparing me for this Dr. visit’s? I had a feeling of Deja vu. I laughed to myself then as I did at the gynecologists. Prophetic…

Madam X walks off to take a seat and I’m up next. I walk up to the window with a huge grin on my face like I’d just won Power Ball and I’m handing her a passport to “out of here land.” That’s my happy place. The receptionist looks up and what does she see, me. I can’t refrain myself from telling the receptionist why I’m laughing. It was quite the bonding moment and we immediately became chums. I learned my new BFF’s name was Eileen. My revelation broke the monotony of “please sign in and take a seat, we will call you when the Dr. is ready” monologue that Eileen is required to repeat countless times a day. Neither of us has read the book, mine is hidden on my bookshelf in the frivolous section. I am reading serious literature, currently “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Comedy Writing” so I don’t have time for nonsense reading, and summer is now over.

There is no-one behind me so I don’t have the searing sensation of impatient eyes penetrating my back from the person next in line to move me along. Eileen and I get to talking. Eileen tells me this isn’t her regular office. Eileen works for a surgeon BY THE NAME OF DR. BUTCHER. Dr. Butcher specializes in COLON AND RECTAL SURGERY!! You would have thought we just stuck oil like Jed Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies with the explosive gusher of laughter that erupted from that tidbit of information. Now we are in the zone! We were like two kindergartener laughing about fart noises, only not so innocent.

Moving on I go take my seat. Across the room Madam X isn’t reading her book, she is concealing it on her lap with her purse. Fast forward to the examination room where I am weighed in, not happy, and told to “strip down, put on the paper robe, the Dr. will be with you in a minute.” We all know a minute is not a minute when at the Dr.s office, its ten minutes. Due to the nature of my visit I decide it was a good idea to visit the restroom. While sitting on the potty I look around and see the collection of empty plastic cups that one must pee into if necessary. I also notice boxes of small little handy wipes. Score! I’ll have a few thank you. I asked myself if it was stealing and felt awfully terrible. Once again that Catholic guilt was whispering softly in my ear. It might sound ridiculous to some but I couldn’t take them without asking permission.

These packets were VIP in my mind if they are used in a medical environment. Not the generic brand. I don’t carry a bottle of hand sanitizer in my bag because I wouldn’t use it and my bag would be that much heavier. These little packets were perfect if an emergency sanitation of hands occurrence should happen, for example after touching the handrails while riding the escalator up to the second floor at the mall or holding the handrail while pulling myself to stand-off the toilet in a hospital bathroom. Elevators are germy too. These packets were good stuff, Aeromed Castile Soap Towelettes.

I decided to tear one open and freshen up for the good of myself and my Dr., I’m considerate like that. Now, the entrepreneur awakens in me and I think, if I was a gynecologist, I would have a vat of these towelettes next to the examination table and it would be mandatory for all patients to wipe down prior to examination. I mentioned this to my Dr. when we met and he thought it was a brilliant idea as well. I finish in the bathroom, zip up and proceed to walk down the hall to my examination room in a very jovial frame of mind. Once inside I do as told and the paper gown goes on. While waiting I see an OK magazine in the room. What a treat! I do not buy rag mags so to speak but do read them for free at any opportunity that presents itself. Waiting in line at the supermarket and CVS are two of my favorite libraries for such reading. Smack on the front page are stories of anorexic celebrities and how they maintain their skeletal appearances. Fascinating! I decided to get comfortable. I like to lay down as often as possible so I jump up onto the table, put my feet in the stir-ups and lay back like I’m on a lounge chair at the Jersey beach sunning myself and begin to flip pages. This is a vacation for me. I’m alone, it’s quiet and I’m reading a trashy magazine. The ease of knowing that I am not wasting time but being productive by waiting for the Dr. allows me a free pass from self-condemnation. And then, here comes the Dr.

Due to the blissed out naturally highly excitable endorphin filled neurotransmitters shooting around in my head, I was feeling happy and chatty. Well I hit the lotto of Dr.s when I met this one. We were like-minded, Dr. – patient soul mates. We introduced ourselves and get this, his name is PAUL NEWMAN. Come on, Paul Newman, a gynecologist?! It was as if the comedy Universe was showering me with blessings of comedy bits. Dr. Paul Newman, who has brown eyes, was born on the same day as the famous salad dressing entrepreneur! He was a lover of comedy and of course I indulged him in what had just transpired in his office. It was fun, fun, fun!

Realizing that medicine was a not a byproduct of this Divine appointment, we snapped out of our revelry. It was time to get down to business unfortunately. I was examined, all clear and told I could dress. My visit was over, it was an anticlimactic moment. Unless I am to receive a call, telling me I have cancer, I would not have to return until next year. What a bummer. As of today, my phone has not rung, which is bittersweet.







I am a writer, poet, humorist, screenwriter, blogger. I am not a label. Out of tragedy comes comedy. I see hysterical in the simple. This is my head. I live an extraordinary ordinary life. I am inspired, creative, passionate and fiery. I have been through and will continue. I will put it down and hope you pick it up. I am exposed, vulnerable, honest and authentic. I am sarcastic and witty. My favorite thing to do is watch life and laugh and cry and start over again. I invite you to laugh, release and lighten up with me. When life has kicked your butt, it's all about the comedy! Comedy fuels me, poetry soothes me, and dancing ignites...

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