It was time someone peeked at my undercarriage. When I had called to make an appointment, the receptionist asked if I was pregnant. I needed someone who knew my big belly was fat and not full of baby. When all the horrible fantasies and memories flew through my head, sanity returned and I understood just why she was asking. That was the OB part of OB/GYN! I assumed the whole encyclopedic questionnaire I had to fill out would have asked very different questions...I was wrong. The questions would have made me blush when they had been relevant to my life, like how old were you when you had your first intercourse.. Alas, that was when I was still modest and private..
After a while it became fun to say 'no' to questions like 'do you use birth control?' If yes, what do you use?' I wanted to write 'abstinence' but hadn't yet met the doctor and thought I should play it straight. She had a good sense of humor and grinned at a few things I said about being a widow. Being somewhat candid, I often shock uptight people. She was neither shocked nor surprised when I said I had nothing against sex, I just don't like old men. I'd already seen one through Viagra, illness, many hospitalizations and tests, bandaged him, emptied his eliostomy bag, sat with the technician who gave him a brain CATscan, watched the doctors probe the cancerous liver nodes, made it through weeks of Hospice care, and learned to adjust to life's reality. One of the adjustments I made was living by myself and enjoying it thoroughly. For the first time in my life I was as much in control of my life as one can get.
This doctor explained the diagnostic tree she was thinking through. I learned more medical possibilities as she learned about me. Imagine my surprise when she explained, her head invisible to me (though her words told me where she was) as she said "You have a beautiful uterus". Said I, "I'm not unused to compliments, but that is one never mentioned before and I doubt I will be hearing again!" She flattered me, that I look and act more than ten years younger than my age. Then she said, "But you probably hear that a lot." I said I did and gave her my stock answer, " I was born without a manual and have no idea how I am supposed to look, act, and think"
Reaching one's seniority gives advantages. When every orifice has been looked up or into, when your feet have been in the stirrups but there is no horse under there, when a woman has been palpating your breasts and says, "Wonderful, they're clear", modesty seems quite out of place. It got shed along with unwillingness to continue to suffer fools, a few years back. It was nice to walk out through a waiting room of distended bellies and be able to say, "There, but for the Grace of God and aging, go I". My head rang with, "Been there, done that, don't want to do it any more". Once I again was reassured that growing old has numerous benefits. A pelvic ultrasound was ordered but we agreed that I may never have to see this doctor again. She held out her hand to be shaken and said with a sincere smile, "It was very nice meeting you. You are an inspiration for your age!" Now, really, how much nicer can life get?
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