Traumatized…Just a Little Traumatized

Disclaimer: This post probably falls into the category of over-sharing but I feel that it’s necessary to share my experience even if it’s just for the amusement of my friends in the blogosphere!

I should not be admitting this but it had been years – and I mean YEARS – since I had been to the doctor for a wellness exam.

I’m a healthy person overall with an occasional cold or flu but never serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor. Well, there was that one time about 10 years ago that involved the emergency room, a newlywed bride and immaculate conception…but that’s a whole other blog post!

After about a year of hearing me complain that I couldn’t hear out of my left ear, a concerned fed-up coworker emailed me her doctor’s contact information, marched into my office and sat there until I made an appointment.

Today was the big day…my doctor’s appointment.

Many of you may already be thinking, “She’s not been to the doctor in years, there are procedures that women of a certain age need to have done.”

You are totally right and I do NOT advise any woman over the age of 18 (maybe younger) to avoid the doctor and these procedures. But in my defense, I am healthy and I’m not making my way through the bars of my little ‘Ville (if you get my meaning) so I figured I was OK!

I was a bit worked up and worried before heading into the doctor’s office. I had also downed glass after glass of water throughout the morning so I’d be ready for that first little action that had to be done at my appointment. Don’t understand? Let me spell it out. It involves me, a bathroom and a cup!

So I was worried and anxious and little fidgety.

The receptionist handed me a little plastic cup (picture the ones at the water cooler), a lid and a Ziploc bag and pointed me to the restroom. This was my first traumatic moment of the day.

First, the bathroom was NOT in the office. It was down the hall, across from the elevator and a dermatology office. Second, there was no “fill line” on the cup. I had never done this before. How full should it be filled?

This is when the first text of the day went out to my gal pals – Going Jane and Bathtub Mama. I needed support because I was traumatized. Thank goodness for friends! They both texted back right away and made me feel better – still traumatized, but better.

I took care of business, walked casually back to the office – as casually as one carrying a “specimen” can walk – and sat down to wait for the doctor. The second text of the day went out about now. I was ready to bolt, but my friends came through yet again and calmed me down.

An hour later I was taken back; weighed (gotta love that); and put in a room to wait again.

That’s when the second traumatic moment of the day occurred. They should NOT leave patients waiting in a room for more than 30 minutes with a tray of strange looking tools and rubber gloves.

I tried to ignore them. I read an entire magazine; sent a few emails and tried not to focus on the tray. I couldn’t do it. I even took a picture of it and e-mailed it to Going Jane. Here’s the e-mail:

Subject: Waiting on the dr…
What the heck is the plastic thing? Yikes…maybe I’ll just go home! Been waiting for almost an hour and a half for the doc. No wonder I don’t do this often…

Here’s her response:

Re: Waiting on the dr…
God, you are killing me today!! Lol!!

Glad I made someone laugh. I sure wasn't. I was traumatized, remember?

The doctor finally came in. We had a nice chat and then the third traumatizing moment of my day occurred. I had to strip down, put on a paper vest (yes, vest - not a gown) and sit on a paper covered examination table and wait once again. I knew that the window was tinted and while I could see out, no one could see in, but I still moved to the corner of the room to change! At least they gave me a paper sheet to use as a blanket.

I won’t go into the details of what happened when the doctor came back in. Let’s just just call it the fourth traumatizing moment of my day. No elaboration necessary, right girls?

In the end, it was all OK. I survived and I now know what the plastic thing is for!

I am a bit traumatized, just a bit traumatized, but now I have a remedy for my ear (hopefully); orders to keep a “headache diary” and a tetanus shot that is good for the next 10 years. I also won’t wait another 15 years before my next wellness exam, I think.