For the Girls ONLY!

This is a blog post that has been a long time coming. This is for the girls only! Male readers, I am warning you right now, QUIT READING. I am going to talk about the Va-Jay-Jay and Aunt Flo. Get the picture? Now scram!

Okay ladies, getting older comes with a lot of setbacks. You have wrinkles, sagging, bagging, you name it. You also usually have to deal with Aunt Flo being a roaring bitch. Now she's always been a bitch, but once you hit forty, she kicks it into high gear.

I’ve been complaining about Aunt Flo for some time now. Her monthly visit has become not enough for her. No, this bitch wants to visit every other freaking week. UNACCEPTABLE! So, I complained to my doctor about it. He promptly scheduled me in November for a trans-vaginal ultrasound. Ever have one of those? NO? Well, let me enlighten you.

First, you have to drink 32 ounces of water, one hour before your appointment. I nearly puked trying to get all that water down. You go in and they do a traditional ultrasound on your abdomen, which is really uncomfortable with a full bladder. They then let you pee and you get to come back for more. Little do you know the joys that await you now.

They now have you remove all clothing from the waist down. They then hand you this HUGE looking wand that they have lubricated and tell you to insert it into your twinkie. As I sit there with my mouth gaping open, I finally get the courage to ask how far I have to insert it. I am told at least to my cervix. I then ask, exactly how far that is, because at this point, I think my cervix is close to my tonsils judging by the size of that thing.

So, I insert it and figure if it isn’t in far enough the tech will take care of it. If that is not embarrassing enough, now comes the REALLY fun part. For the next 15 minutes, I feel like an old-school video game that you found in pizza shops and the technician played me like a video game with that freaking HUGE joystick! OMG! Spin to the left, spin to the right, twist around upside down, right side up. You get the picture.

I went through all that to find out two weeks later that I am normal. Really? Aunt Flo visits every other week and that is normal? Whatever.

Fast forward to my annual exam in February, I get sent the next week for my annual Mammogram. I think I am done for another year. WRONG!

I get a call telling me that endometrial cells were present in my annual test. SO! I was scheduled for another one of these GDF’n trans-vaginal ultra-sounds. Two of these in five months is enough to make a woman kill someone.

I go for my appointment, fully educated as to what is going to go on now. At one point I tell the technician that it isn’t fair that we have to go through all these things and men don’t. She then tells me that men have to have the prostrate exam. I kindly ask her how old she is, to which he replies 22. I then educate her that once a woman turns 40, she pretty much gets the same exam, but the difference is with men, usually they are being violated by a slender, female, physician’s assistant’s finger and we get a HUGE male gynecological finger! The look of shock on her face told me that she had no idea of the joys that await her in 18 years.

So, I live through that and it comes back normal. AGAIN. So now, I am scheduled for an Endometrial Biopsy. I have no idea what is in store for me. I figure it’s done in the office, how bad could it be? I am given a prescription for 800mg of Motrin to take one hour before.

Wouldn’t you know, Aunt Flo’s back. BITCH. I consider canceling the appointment. After speaking with the nurse and trying to find a date and time to reschedule and coming up empty, we just decide to go for it. Personally, I thought it was time for him to finally see, first hand, how big of a bitch Aunt Flo really is.

I arrive. They are prepared for me. The equivalent of a puppy pad is on my table. See, the nurse understands. So, in he comes and we start. He informs me that he has put a drip pan below me, like I am a George Foreman Grill. Nice.

The next 10 minutes, were probably the most painful and worst 10 minutes of my 43 years. OMG! I actually cried. CRIED!

When I was five years old, I had to have my tonsils taken out. My grandmother, a nurse, coached me that when they put a mask on my face to take a deep breath and it will smell like roses. Well, I took one whiff of that ether and I promptly kicked the doctor in the face and fractured his nose. My arms and legs were promptly tied down. Afterwards, the doctor told my grandmother that he pitied the doctor that delivered my child some day.

Well, I’ve never had a child, but my gynie came very close to being kicked in the face that day. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. Really. But OMG!  As I left, all the eyes looking at me from the waiting room confirmed what I had feared.  They had heard me.  God, I can't remember if I cussed or not.

So, after all that……two weeks later……………everything is normal. Are you f’n kidding me? Fuck Aunt Flo!