It has been over a month since That’s Not Chinese and I visited with my gynecologist, the ‘Nutty Professor.’ Since that time a lot has happened – I fractured my shoulder, changed my hair color, and That’s Not Chinese determined ‘Mr. Magoo’ might be a more appropriate doppelgänger for my gyno.
For most, Leap Year is a year with one day added – tagged on to the end of February – to keep the calendar in sync with the seasons. For me, LEEP Year is a year in which, on one day in June, an additional biopsy is conducted to keep my cervix in sync with my ‘seasons.’ Last time I spoke with my gyno she informed me I would not be receiving any anesthesia for the procedure so I took two acetaminophen and grabbed an ivory mocha with two shots – the only two shots I thought I’d be getting for the day.
The assistant took me to the procedure room, handed me a gown, and said, “Just so you know, you will be grounded.” I haven’t been grounded since high school. I felt it was best that I advise her I just had surgery and have wire in my arm. “Will that make a difference?” I asked. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Uh oh, you’ve got a fever,” she replied. “I do? Of what? Will that make a difference?” I asked. “Just over 100. No difference. Your doctor will be here shortly,” she said and left the room.
I set my coffee on the ground, underneath a chair by the exam table, and conducted a quick assessment of the room. It was small with a set of cabinets in one corner. The cabinets were covered with swabs, speculums, wire loops, scalpels, needles, and scissors. One pair of scissors was a in sealed bag labeled, ‘Needle Holder.’ The rest of the room was a hodgepodge of equipment – helium tanks, surgery light, flexible lamp, Smoke Shark Evacuator, and a couple of randomly placed plastic carts on wheels. I knew immediately that today’s visit would be as good as the last.
My doctor entered the room, asked me to scoot to the edge of the table, placed my feet in the oven mitts, and then pushed my gown down and said, “I want to be able to see your face.” So romantic. Her assistant then advised, “We tell most patients it is best if they relax their legs as much as possible – it really helps them.” I doubted that advice helped anyone relax knowing what was about to happen.
My doctor explained the procedure which, fortunately, now included a local anesthetic – looks like today would include more than two shots. She attempted to adjust the surgical lamp, which apparently had a loose joint, thus, kept moving. “This isn’t going to work,” she observed and added, “I need a screw tightened.” That’s Not Chinese would definitely agree – there were a few loose screws here. I informed my doctor she would need an Allen wrench to remedy the situation and she opted for a flexible light instead – probably best since I didn’t see an Allen wrench in any of the sealed medical device bags.
To distract me, we talked shop – the fact that Michael Douglas is blaming his throat cancer on cunnilingus and where my lab work would be sent. Being that my lab work has previously been sent to labs not covered by my plan, I wanted to be sure that she was clear about my insurance. “You’ve got United Health Care so we’ll send it to their lab,” she told me. I advised her United Health Care was not my insurance provider. We then started talking about my shoulder injury. Distraction, distraction, distraction.
As she administered the third shot and I laid back, trying to relax, as instructed, she said, “And that’s why we wear glasses. Can you please hand me a tissue?” As I tried to lift my grounded body to see what hit her, she continued on with the anesthesia, completely unfazed. Unfazed would be very impressed. Although she opted to wear scrubs for today’s visit, she wasn’t wearing safety glasses/goggles, rather, she was wearing her prescription eyeglasses. Poor little nearsighted Mr. Magoo. She then said, “Let’s do one more shot, just to make sure you can’t feel anything. Lidocaine please.” “We’re out,” the assistant replied and then the two of them left me to ‘relax’ while they fumbled around the procedure room looking for more Lidocaine.
Fortunately, they found more without having to leave the sterile environment and, as they were wrapping up the biopsy, literally, my doctor requested some ‘sticks.’ I’m not familiar with medical terms, so I have no idea what that meant, but the assistant was unable to find any in the room. As a result, my doctor had to again leave me, relaxing, to locate them. As she scoured through one of the plastic carts she found another device in a bag and said, “I guess these will work.” A couple more pokes and smokes and she announced, “You’re done!”
The assistant left the room and my doctor continued to fumble around the room and discuss with me what would happen next. “You’ve got United Health Care so we’ll send this to their lab and when it comes back I’ll call you.” It was at this time that two things happened: 1) I decided not to correct her and 2) she knocked over my coffee cup. She quickly picked up the cup, grabbed a tissue – not the same tissue she used to clean her glasses – wiped up the spill and said, “Only lost a swallow.”
Maybe. I may also lose my biopsy if she really sends it to the wrong lab. Oh well, LEEP Year only comes every so often, right?