Princess of Irony

He has the bedside manner of a heavy handed Harley Davidson grease monkey.

Issue Date: Thursday, Mar. 17, 2005

So, as I sat there yesterday in the waiting room of my friendly OB-GYN, patiently filling out the updated insurance paperwork, I had my husband sitting beside me playing solitaire on his IPAC. I noticed that my vision was a bit blurry. It wasn�t because I didn�t have my glasses� (Mister brought those to me when we met at the Discount Tire to have the flat tire replaced on the hoopty [I drove the Lincoln yesterday while he took care of the manly car stuff])�and I didn�t have a migraine coming on, sanks the good Lawd� but my vision was a bit blurry because I was so nervous that my heart was beating fiercely. So fiercely, in fact, that while trying to fill in the �date of last menstrual cycle� information my vision was affected with each heartbeat.

It was like some giant was stomping around on the second floor of a rickety building while I was filling out a Scantron.

#1 A � Feeee Fi Fo Fummm! � [Thud.] [Thud.] [Thud.] [Thud.] �.#2 B

Hi� anxious about the OB-GYN much?

Let�s review.

Guys, you can just move along now. We�re just gonna talk about boobies and girlie bits, and not in a sexy way.

Time before last that I was in Dr. Goatee�s office, he called for a mammogram. Yeah, that was a fun trip down mammary lane no?... No? Really?... No? Anyway� My boobs are fine. I have this little lump that I affectionately call my �bean� in my right breast at like 5 o�clock. So it�s not in the �death quadrant� in the armpit area or anything. It is just a bit of hardened tissue or fiber or hell, let�s just call it a special stockpile of fairy dust and angel kisses.

Whatthefuck ever.

It still makes me want to vomit whenever I find it while doing my monthly examinations.

Who the hell am I lying to?

I don�t do monthly examinations. Maybe tri-monthly or something. If I�m lucky and not feeling all squicked out.

I�m also a lucky lucky superfly girl who has this very dense breast tissue at the base of her breasts. So that fact always gives birth to the following conversation (every damn time)�

Dr. Goatee: [smooshing Suz�s boob into her spine and noting the grimace on her face] I know that this is uncomfortable, but it is necessary.
Sue: I�m aware.
Mister: [stony silence]
Dr. Goatee: [still with the smooshing� Jeeezus] I found what you call your �bean�, and the ridges under each breast.
Sue: Yep.
Mister: [stony silence]
Dr. Goatee: It doesn�t seem to be anything to be overly concerned with, however, with saying that� I must make you aware that the only way we can be sure that it is not cancerous is going in and removing the masses.
Sue: *blink*
Mister: [stony silence]
Dr. Goatee: [continues to expound on cancer and blah blah blah] � the positive thing about the ridges under your breasts are that they act as natural underwire.
Sue: um� thanks?
Mister: [picks up a bat and maims the doctor]

Mister really didn�t kill Dr. Goatee, or even maim him for being such a tard. He (Dr. Goatee) really is very thorough, but he has the bedside manner of a heavy handed Harley Davidson grease monkey.

I won�t even go into detail about the pelvic exam other than the good news is that my uterus is not retro.

We�ll have a party on the 2nd of April.

Oh, and my ovary didn�t shoot out my nostril when he pushed a little too hard on the right one. Sweet.

Oh� holy shit, I almost forgot� I lost almost ten pounds. By accident. Which is even better.

Have a great Thursday and remind me to tell you guys about the shit flinging monkey and what happened on Sunday.

Bye!

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