Lizzy's Annual Visit

Lizzy hated pap smears. She considered them an evil necessity though and a procedure that had to be done. She was never quite sure what to wear at times like this, mainly on account that her funny little Indian GP would tell her remove her clothing, lie flat on her back with ankles together while he washed up and snapped on the dreaded surgical gloves.

Usually he put her at ease by telling her a funny story. 'I had a guy in here last week, 64 years old and he wanted to know why he could no longer get an erection. I tell you his belly was so fat I wanted to ask him 'how would you know if you had one or not?' He would lean back in his swivel chair and clap his hands laughing at the image so obivously imprinted in his mind. This morning however, she could only manage a weak smile. Pap smears were stressful and no amount of humour would shake what was about to happen.

Once on the examination table, her knees trembled in anticipation while he told her to spread her legs as far as they would go. The GP crouched over the most intimate part of her body and tried to slide the cold jelly coated speculum in but without success. 'Just relax' he said again. Lizzy stared upwards breathing in then out, telling herself 'pretend you're not here. Pretend you're not here.' but her parted knees wobbled more than ever till finally her doctor stood up and said 'It is difficult but it will soon be over.' He bent over her again and Lizzy could feel part of the speculum at the entrance of her vagina and became so agitated it was like the gates down there slammed shut.

'Come on Lizzy, sing along with me.' He started off with Here comes the sun.' Flabbergasted that he could sing at a time like this, her eyes nearly popped out in shock. F uck I just want this to be over with, she screamed inwardly. The GP tried again.

'I really need you to relax so I can insert the speculum yes? You do the chorus. Ready?' He rattled off the melody to Here Comes the Sun as he pushed the speculum in further and Lizzy suddenly belted out loudly 'Do do do do' and then the most awful thing happened. She had sung so forcefully that the speculum shot out of her vagina and clattered onto the tiled floor. She was mortified of course but her GP, whose name she could never pronounce, cracked up laughing.

'You must really like the Beatles. I'll just get some more instruments. You stay there and don't move.' So Lizzy lay still, her face beetroot red, body shaking from head to foot. She even felt her vagina cringe with shame. Thank God for the curtain which protected her. What the hell did he sing when he told his male patients to bend over so he could check their prostate? You're an A sshole by Jimmy Buffet?

He returned, sweeping the curtain to one side and Lizzy jumped. 'Let's try that again, yes?' She cleared her throat and mumbled yes. 'This time, no Beatles for you! ha ha ha!' Lizzy knew he was doing his best to make light of the situation but he really wasn't helping. Her heart was racing and she could no longer relax and do her breathing to make the procedure go as smoothly as possible.

In her mind she imagined him telling his family over some spicy curry dinner how his day went. His wife with the red dot on her forehead would laugh so much that some of the rice would end up over the table. She felt the pressure inside of her and hoped he had a wife that beat him.

'All done! You can get dressed now.' The GP turned away, packing the sample in a sterile bag while Lizzy hurriedly put her pants back on. Her foot caught in the leg hole and she stumbled forward pushing the GP so hard that the sample flew out of his hands and he crashed into the filing cabinet. As if in a dream, she watched the bag fly in slow motion across the room to land on the floor.

Fortunately the bag was already sealed and Lizzy watched with more embarrassment as he picked up her glistening insides but once again the funny little Indian doctor just laughed. She stammered her apologies, wishing that there really were holes that could swallow her. 'Don't worry about a thing. These things happen.' He washed his hands and sat at his desk while Lizzy finished dressing.

'You had abnormal cells on your cervix last year you say?'

Lizzy sat opposite him, straightening her hair as if it would calm the ruffled feelings inside. 'Yes'

Then the questions started. Was she sexually active? Was her period normal? Had she noticed any change in discharge. It was belittling, degrading even.

He scribbled notes as she answered each question. Maybe the family would laugh even louder tonight over dinner. Lizzy hoped he at least suffered from bowel problems on account of all the curry he probably ate.

The pathologist form filled, he slipped it into the sample bag and told her the results would be back within seven days.

Lizzy took her leave, barely able to utter 'Thank you Doctor' wondering what the hell she was thanking him for. He was always a happy upbeat guy and that is why he was her doctor. Whatever malady she came to him with, he put a positive spin on it and told her funny stories about other patients that somehow put her at ease. But today it was Lizzie that supplied him with the next humourous instalment. As she left, he was humming Here Comes the Sun as he tapped on his keyboard.

In the waiting room, people read outdated magazines and she wondered which of them would get a laugh from her embarrassing experience.

...I spent years as a Hospice chaplain, dealing with the finality of 'Life' as it happened(s) to some. With only a very few exceptions, every one of them exhibited the same Courage and powerfully Naked Humor the good 'Hindi-cologist'... and the author of this brilliant window into the utterly private, and universally dreaded process possess.

There is no 'critique' of such a priceless Treasure ~ only a quiet nod of "yep."

Well done, young lady.
CM Sackett

Thanks CM. I am a little concerned that the subject matter might be too cringeworthy for some but I thought, what the heck and wrote it anyway!

Well it is a bit cringe-worthy but that's the nature of the beast isn't it? You're just transmitting honest perceptions and that's a good thing, right? It was OK by me, and I'm reading it from a man's viewpoint. One would think women can relate to it even more. Some subject matter is harder to deal with than others. So I see it as an honest view of a cringe-worthy experience. That's one reason I don't care for dentists much. They're always sticking their fingers in your mouth! I don't care much for strangers sticking fingers in my mouth, it's too darned invasive!

I think this was done in an absolutely un-cringey way, wonderful and fun and worth reading

Do do do do!

I'm glad you enjoyed it Karen and I did expect that women would probably relate to it better than men

The superficial topic is indeed "cringe-worthy" but the execution is down-to-earth and inoffensive. (Not that offensiveness per se is necessarily a bad thing in art.)
At least half of your readers --the "distaff" half"-- can personally relate to this. The descriptions are subtle yet
resonant.

But I think the theme or main point of the story isn't so much the gynecological exam as the character of the GP with his anecdotes. It's similar to that unsettling feeling when a gossip bends your ear-- you know that the minute you leave the room, you will become her next victim.

I laughed out loud at the consequences of her singing -- and also at the doctor's story about the old horny fat man. On the other hand, her last year's abnormal findings must surely have put her in earnest need of reassurance, which she never gets. When I realized this I felt like I had been laughing at someone who has had an extremely bad day, and nearly chastised myself.

Dear Delta, I enjoy your stories, among other things, because of their syntactical directness. The sentences read smoothly and follow one another totally unforced. The speculum ejection moment is a challenge to narrate, but you use words wisely and manage to convey it well with simplicity.

Suspension of dispelief is, however, required. This doctor needs shooting -- there are much better ways to relax someone in order to insert a speculum than breaching the confidentiality of other examinations. Unless, of course... you've created him so that he symbolizes men who don't care enough to stop cracking jokes for a minute. I know the type.

My sincere thanks for sharing, and good health.

Regards,
DH

Thanks Aunty and Doc Heart. The story is more about the character of the Doctor than the embarrassing exam.

Thank you both for your kind words. I uhmed and ahhed on how best to write this so Doc, its good to get structural feedback like that.