Open Wide and Say Nothing

Ok so maybe it was a little over the top to think that there would be any chance at all that Dr. Madre would be so careless that he'd mistakenly have a live wire anywhere near my delicate girly parts and not know that it had fired up and was toasting me from the inside out. It's not like it is his first day on the job. I am not his guinnea pig.

Or am I?

As he revs up the little wire with the foot pedal he tells me that this procedure is usually done in the OR under anesthesia. Really? So why do I get the special treat? He explains that he knows I am a calm patient (at least on the outside) and will not scootch away and scramble off the table while he's trying to do his evidently very delicate procedure.

Lucky me. This is where my misleading calm demeanor gets me. The home remedy with the tools found around the house as opposed to the high tech equipment in the sterile environment. Although I am thankful just to have Dr. Madre and Robin in the room as opposed to the cast of thousands that usually pack the OR suite. People I'd get to bump into in the hallowed halls of the hospital who will be thinking "I saw her naughties" as we make our way around the salad bar together in the cafeteria. Only I'd be none the wiser given the gloves and gowns and goggles.

Dr. Madre is about to begin. He tells me to hold still. As if. I am barely breathing and have been clutching the sides of the table to the point of white knuckles.

I don't say anything (because of the barely breathing thing) and he peers up from between my knees to see if I am OK.

I assure him I am. Just nervous.

"You have nothing to be nervous about so long as you don't move." This is where being dead from the waist down would have been handy.

And he elaborates. "Do you know the voltage on this wire?" I don't dare shake my head. I tell him I do not with a one syllable grunt.

"It's (insert some meaningless number here) volts! Do you know how powerful that is?"

No, not really, but enough to give me the vapors, I assure you.

"It could fry your liver."

"Really?" I say.

"Imagine what it could do to your vagina?!"

I am a wreck and have to speak up.

"I am imagining what it could do to my vagina, and frankly, not that I don't find all of this fascinating and not that I don't enjoy chatting with you, but I would feel a thousand times better if you would focus all of your attention on not frying my liver or my vagina. If you don't mind, of course."

And the games begin. Truth be told, it is not horrible. I feel nothing thanks to the pinch and a sting that put my girly parts soundly asleep. Though I could have lived without some of the sounds and most of the smells, and almost all of the talk about what instruments were coming and going throughout. And of course I will never recover from the sight of the lab samples. Some things are just burned onto the surface of your brain forever.

When he's nearly finished, he peers up at me, again, from between my knees. "Do you have sex, dear?"

Haven't we established that I do? Hence the pregnancy test? "Yes...."

"Not today you don't. And not for 2 weeks. Better if it is closer to three."

Better text Scott to let him know the fun house is boarded up for renovations.

But in less than an hour, I was on my feet and on my way. Not home to recover. To a meeting. I wasn't even late.

And in retrospect, I've had so little down time, I am thinking Dr. Madre is a miracle worker. Sparing me the recovery (and the potential for humiliation) from an OR experience, because he knows I can do it, and my life style doesn't have a lot of time for down time.

That is what I call Healthcare Reform.