A Funny Thing Happened To Me While In Stirrups

While I easily could write an entire post filled with all things disturbing and unnatural about stirrup pants, this particular post is not going to delve into that.  I am not going to discuss how many days in a row I wore my favorite black stirrup pants with the massive accumulation of cheap cotton fabric ballooned out at the waste in homage to MC Hammer.

I refuse to indulge in the equal parts luscious and frightening memories of the decade that was the eighties. Not to mention the requisite accessories that accompanied your stirrups. You know the ones - the scrunchie socks, the over sized sweaters, the Doc Martin hiking boots and of course, the side pony tail.

Instead, I am endeavoring to discuss the other kind of stirrups; as in, put your feet here and slide down to the end of the table. No need to worry. I am not going to discuss any gory details such that my male audience would blush. Remember the post title -A FUNNY thing.......

Arriving at the doctor's office on Monday morning, it was my second visit in less than a month for the same damn, bloody problem. Infer from that what you will. This time, I am pleading with him, "Doc, I can't go on like this, you HAVE to do something, do you hear me?" It had been an unbearable three months of nonsense, daily pain, draining me literally and secondarily draining me of all energy.

He mentions a minor surgery we could do to fix me right up, give me a fresh start so to speak. Of course, I am all in - let's get this baby over with.  Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way, he tells  me.  We have to run a few tests, eliminate other possibilities.  We need blood work, we need ultrasound, we need a biopsy. In other words,  "Put your feet here and slide down to the end of the table."

People who know me know I have an extremely high tolerance for pain. One who has lived my life gets used to certain amount of discomfort. Nothing much will phase me. Childbirth was a piece of cake - even with twins.  A little breathing, a little pushing, badda bing, badda boom, welcome a new life into the world.  The only time I can remember truly feeling hard core pain was the first time I had a full-on, no hair left behind, Brazilian bikini wax.  "Son of a mother fucking bitch!" But that's another post.

So now I've assumed the position and my precious little doctor, who looks exactly like Larry David, is safely hidden away behind the paper sheet thrown over my knees. I know they put that there for modesty purposes but honestly; is it really necessary?  I realize he's there, I might as well see him. It's the adult version of peek-a-boo.

Before he begins, he mentions to the ultrasound technologist how uncomfortably warm it is in the room. He asks her to make a note to check into purchasing a supplemental air conditioning unit. This prompts me to launch into forty questions concerning his office lease. Does he have a full service, gross lease? Has he called his landlord to repair the problem? Is he aware of his rights as a tenant? I'm talking business while he's just getting down to business.

Now, there are two things a woman does not want to hear when a doctor is holding a speculum and a collection of sharp implements.

1. You might feel a little pressure here.
2. You will feel a little pinch.

Emphasis, in both cases is on the word "little", which generally translates to - hold on to the edge of the table because you're going for a "little" ride.  

Meanwhile the entire time, through the pressure, the pinch, the pain and the out of body experience, we're continuing to talk business only now we're talking about the chairman of my company. What a great guy, super reputation, everyone knows and loves him. I adore him too but I'm finding it awkward, bordering on annoying to discuss with him at this particular, shall we say, moment. Thinking it couldn't get any worse, it does. Doc realizes his accountant resides in my office building. Now we're talking about a man I'm not particularly fond of. Gheesh, do I really have to think of him NOW?

The good news to come from this experience? I have received the "all clear" for the surgery. I'm going in on Tuesday morning and I'm so excited, I can't stand it. Yes, you read that correctly, I am elated and overjoyed to be having a surgery. Yeah me! Sing it with me, I'm gonna be a new woman, I'm gonna be a new woman......

Wish me luck on Tuesday morning and especially think of me during the recovery. I've already been told to expect a "little" discomfort for the rest of the day.