To commence the -week of getting my holes checked out-, I had an OBGYN appointment this morning. And I can say that it went just about as well as the dentist.
Ok the dentist was worse. But hole #2 didn’t get any better of a report than that mouth hole up north. And if we’re really riding the honesty train, I didn’t go to an OBGYN, I went to a midwife…where I cried, and got a hug. It’s fairly routine. She told me that I deserved a medal for everything that I’ve been through. Midwives 4 life. Although who cares about medals anymore. It’s 2011 and I’m not in a war. I’d like a flat screen and a doughnut.
So remember during my birth story, I told you about “the awful”? For those of you who are too lazy for clicks and links, “the awful” was the cervical exam. They would dig around to see how dilated you were. I finally knew what it meant to see stars. And unfortunately Britney was not one of them. Well turns out, my vagina resents that procedure and is holding it against me. That or I’m mentally traumatized. So I told the midwife to check it out because it still seems angry at me.
I get the standard “ok dear, inch down about 3 inches”. (that practice is consistent with midwives and anyone else in the vagina business)
Stirrups in, staring up at the breast feeding fairy mobile above my head (oh yes.)
MW: Hmm, well that’s interesting
Me: I really don’t need an interesting vagina today
MW: So your cervix is retreating.
Me: Retreating? Where on earth could it go?
MW: It’s not letting me take any cells
Me: Letting you? Who is running this show?
MW: Oh my…
Me: Don’t they teach you people some key phrases to avoid when inside a vagina?
MW: Well, it looks like you have a “post-menopausal cervix”
Me: EXCUSE ME?
MW: It is white, when it should be dark and it’s closed off.
Me: So my cervix is dying?! And it’s racist?
So what this really means is that my estrogen is just way low from breastfeeding and it’s normal. It also means that my vagina is an angry old broad who wants nothing to do with anyone or anything in it’s house.
I’m like, jesusonabagel, this is just what I need. I am already responsible for a high needs baby, 2 cats on a hunger strike, a medium needs husband (except where his hair is concerned) and now my old bag of a cervix. I have to go to a super special doctor in the city to get fancy meds for her. It’s basically wrinkle cream and botox for the old bar whore.
I told my friend about my old box and she put it perfectly, “bodies are weird.” Bodies ARE weird. They do weird shit and they annoy me. They get rotten holes and stuff falls out of them that you can’t put back in. I told her that I’m over it. When I die I plan to donate my body to someone who wants a body. I don’t care if it’s “science” or to some guy who really gets into his makeshift haunted house on halloween. I don’t even know what the science thing means. Like, can I donate my body to math if I choose to? But at this rate no one will want my body and it’s rotten holes anyway. I told you all that holes were trouble. You didn’t listen.
So I’m making an appointment at the super fancy hole doc in the city and killmenow because I have to email them my insurance information and my cats shoe size before they will even think to call ME to make an appointment. Slow your roll doctors. Bodies are weird and you are all just pretty much guessing anyway.
To be honest, I don’t really understand much of this estrogen vagina cervix breastfeeding science. I’m just following orders. Can one of you tell me more about my cervix? I trust the internet about as much as I trust doctors.
Forget doctors. I’ll take one drum circle and 3 hippies to dance around my vagina please. They don’t need no insurance. Just some sunflowers and high fives.
Signing out friends.
I’ll be pouring an Old Fashioned down my trap to keep the hag quiet.
MODG and oldMODGhole