Please bookmark the correct page at http://suzannadanna.net/ 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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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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