home from a long day in court, microwave a Lean Cuisine, loosen his tie, and relax on the sofa to one of those videos? A good rule of thumb would be to inspect a lawyer’s toilet really closely before you hire him.
I’m in the waiting room of the Gentle Care for Gentlewomen office. I spend twenty-five minutes filling out the required paperwork, then pass it back to the receptionist. The name of this place cracks me up. I admit, the Gentlewomen part initially drew me in, but it still strikes me as strange because I know a lot of women who are seriously not gentle. Women who could put a flying monkey in a full nelson. Where do those gals go for OB/GYN? Nurse Ratched?
The walls are painted a soothing mint green and hung with framed photos of waterfalls and gurgling brooks. I’m aware the photos and the color scheme are all about promoting a feeling of peace and safety. It works for me. I pick up a Town and Country , immediately flipping to the pages where they show all the filthy rich brides and grooms whose parents threw them multi-million dollar weddings. I find this fascinating. Sometimes I’ll look at each couple and try to figure out what will go wrong with their marriage. It’s not that I want these marriages to fail; we just know they do based on statistics. So it’s fun to kind of be a sleuth in the beginning. You can always see when a groom thinks he’s big stuff and might have an affair. Or is already having one. Or the bride is all into Herself. I don’t get to investigate this too long before a nurse calls me.
“Mary Beth Green.”
I’m glad to get this over. The nurse leads me to a room and hands me a paper gown. “Take off your clothes and put this on. Dr. Dorrie will see you shortly.”
“All my clothes?”
The nurse nods and gives me this look like she wants to ask what rock I just crawled out from under. Feeling dehumanized, I comply. The room is freezing. I fight the thought that there are hidden cameras in the ceiling vent. Dr. Kelly, what did you get me into? Why do I need a pap smear anyway? People who don’t have sex don’t need those. I doubt nuns are subjected to them. This is only my second time visiting a gynecologist. I avoid the gynecologist like some people avoid the dentist. But for all I know, there’s a giant fungus taking root inside me. Some kind of conspiracy my body summoned against me for never introducing it to a male. I hate the way it sounds, too. Pap smear . Smear is such a negative word. For example, The teacher spent a portion of her day cleaning smeared boogers off desks . Or, The girls had a combination of blood and mascara smeared on their faces at the end of the fight . Smear is never used in a pretty way.
I begin my wait for the doctor.
It’s taking a while.
I lean back and close my eyes. The icy air blowing through the vent is probably channeled straight from Antarctica: Special Delivery to doctors’ offices across the globe. From The Coldest Place on Earth!
When I get cold, I go into hibernation mode. I can’t help it. My eyelids are heavy, and I feel myself nodding off. A faraway voice calls my name. I’m like Sleeping Beauty dreaming in the Enchanted Castle, and my prince is standing over me, waiting to kiss me back to life. So I open my eyes, and there he is, just as I imagined he’d always be, with serious brown eyes, concentrating on me. Like I am his only reason to live. This must be what love feels like.
I whisper, “My prince.”
“Prince, like the singer?” he says.
Then I realize I’m not dreaming, but awake. And a man is watching me be half-asleep and half-naked.
“Hello, Ms. Green,” says the man. “Getting some shut-eye, are we? I apologize for the wait.”
It takes me a few seconds to remember I’m in a doctor’s office. And the doctor is standing over me. He’s got the white jacket and all, stethoscope dangling from his neck. Wiping his eyeglasses on his coat before settling them on his face. Smelling like he just braved
I’m in the waiting room of the Gentle Care for Gentlewomen office. I spend twenty-five minutes filling out the required paperwork, then pass it back to the receptionist. The name of this place cracks me up. I admit, the Gentlewomen part initially drew me in, but it still strikes me as strange because I know a lot of women who are seriously not gentle. Women who could put a flying monkey in a full nelson. Where do those gals go for OB/GYN? Nurse Ratched?
The walls are painted a soothing mint green and hung with framed photos of waterfalls and gurgling brooks. I’m aware the photos and the color scheme are all about promoting a feeling of peace and safety. It works for me. I pick up a Town and Country , immediately flipping to the pages where they show all the filthy rich brides and grooms whose parents threw them multi-million dollar weddings. I find this fascinating. Sometimes I’ll look at each couple and try to figure out what will go wrong with their marriage. It’s not that I want these marriages to fail; we just know they do based on statistics. So it’s fun to kind of be a sleuth in the beginning. You can always see when a groom thinks he’s big stuff and might have an affair. Or is already having one. Or the bride is all into Herself. I don’t get to investigate this too long before a nurse calls me.
“Mary Beth Green.”
I’m glad to get this over. The nurse leads me to a room and hands me a paper gown. “Take off your clothes and put this on. Dr. Dorrie will see you shortly.”
“All my clothes?”
The nurse nods and gives me this look like she wants to ask what rock I just crawled out from under. Feeling dehumanized, I comply. The room is freezing. I fight the thought that there are hidden cameras in the ceiling vent. Dr. Kelly, what did you get me into? Why do I need a pap smear anyway? People who don’t have sex don’t need those. I doubt nuns are subjected to them. This is only my second time visiting a gynecologist. I avoid the gynecologist like some people avoid the dentist. But for all I know, there’s a giant fungus taking root inside me. Some kind of conspiracy my body summoned against me for never introducing it to a male. I hate the way it sounds, too. Pap smear . Smear is such a negative word. For example, The teacher spent a portion of her day cleaning smeared boogers off desks . Or, The girls had a combination of blood and mascara smeared on their faces at the end of the fight . Smear is never used in a pretty way.
I begin my wait for the doctor.
It’s taking a while.
I lean back and close my eyes. The icy air blowing through the vent is probably channeled straight from Antarctica: Special Delivery to doctors’ offices across the globe. From The Coldest Place on Earth!
When I get cold, I go into hibernation mode. I can’t help it. My eyelids are heavy, and I feel myself nodding off. A faraway voice calls my name. I’m like Sleeping Beauty dreaming in the Enchanted Castle, and my prince is standing over me, waiting to kiss me back to life. So I open my eyes, and there he is, just as I imagined he’d always be, with serious brown eyes, concentrating on me. Like I am his only reason to live. This must be what love feels like.
I whisper, “My prince.”
“Prince, like the singer?” he says.
Then I realize I’m not dreaming, but awake. And a man is watching me be half-asleep and half-naked.
“Hello, Ms. Green,” says the man. “Getting some shut-eye, are we? I apologize for the wait.”
It takes me a few seconds to remember I’m in a doctor’s office. And the doctor is standing over me. He’s got the white jacket and all, stethoscope dangling from his neck. Wiping his eyeglasses on his coat before settling them on his face. Smelling like he just braved
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