~~~Valerie~~~
“As you’ve probably already heard, Ms. Stutts, your insurance company has made a slight policy change to your yearly exam,” Dr. Carol Snider, my OB/GYN said, coming into the room and jolting me from my doze.
At every visit, I end up waiting in an exam room all but naked for at least twenty minutes before seeing her. We only had a handful of obstetricians practicing in our small town, and she was the most popular. She was the best. She was patient. She never tried to rush you out of the office.
Since she was female, she understood most of the problems, hormonally or otherwise, in which her patients dealt. Unfortunately, that meant that during my wait for her to see me, I usually found myself napping on the exam table if I forgot to bring a source of entertainment.
“I heard something about that from my sister. She wasn’t sure what exactly the change was,” I said, trying to keep myself covered with the white paper gown draped over the bottom half of my body and the paper shirt while not looking as if I’d nearly fallen off the table at her entrance.
Gail, my sister, had read the paperwork our insurance company had sent us, but I hadn’t. As with all things that had to do with our insurance company, the detailed information form they sent on the changes wasn’t all that detailed or written where the average person could read it.
“The change isn’t anything major,” she said. “We just have to take some blood—not much, only a vial, I promise. Your company, along with many others, is making blood testing for certain sexually transmitted diseases mandatory.”
“Even if I haven’t been sexually active for some years?” I detested saying that aloud even though my doctor knew my sexual history…or lack thereof.
“Yep. I had to test a seventy-year-old woman the other day. Her husband has been dead for well over ten years now, and she swears she hasn’t wanted to be with a man since he passed, but I had to run the tests.”
“Okay. That seems like a waste of time and money, but whatever. As long as my premium doesn’t go up because of it, I’m fine with you doing whatever you need to do. What else has changed?”
“On my end, that’s it. You’re G.P. might have some changes, but the blood tests are all I have to do. The company will probably think of something before your next checkup, I’m sure.” She chuckled before asking, “Do you have any questions or concerns before we get started?”
“Not really. My periods are still regular. I give myself breast exams once a month and haven’t felt anything. These things are getting saggier every year, but as far as I can tell, that’s the only change in them. My weight is still continuing to go up despite my best efforts to stop it.”
I knew better than to mention my weight. As sympathetic as she was about most things, the only advice Dr. Snider ever gave me on that subject was to eat less and exercise more. I was not starving myself, which was what I felt I was doing if I ate any less. I walked four days a week for forty-five minutes to an hour. I had a bookstore to run, so I didn’t have time for much of anything else. I was who I was. I didn’t have any medical issues due to my weight. I was entirely happy with who I was…mostly.
Still, I wanted to know why I couldn’t lose weight, but neither my gynecologist nor my general practitioner seemed to have an answer, or care, or want to help me figure out if something was wrong. They only looked at me as if I was just a lazy ass who wasn’t willing to help myself, so I was attempting to learn to love myself for who I was.
Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything about dieting or exercising that time. She just told me to scoot down on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. She’d been my OB/GYN for years. She’s probably figured that if I hadn’t taken her advice by then—which I had, I just hadn’t lost any weight in doing so; therefore, she didn’t think I had—I wasn’t going to.
I sighed and did as she ordered. That exam was over quickly, and then she moved to my breasts. Five minutes later, I was dressing and leaving the room to give my vial of blood and pay my co-payment. Normally, I was thankful to have that exam over with for another year, but that morning, I left the office feeling anxious and worried that the lab was going to find something horribly wrong with my blood work.
“How did your checkup go?” Gail asked, following me into my office at my bookstore when I got back from my checkup.
“It was a normal checkup like all of the others I’ve had,” I said, putting my purse away and taking a seat behind my desk.
“What about all the changes and new requirements? She didn’t do anything new, did she? Didn’t stick her finger up your butt?”
“Why would she ever have to stick her finger up my butt?” I asked, dropping the mail I’d gathered in shock at her words.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard some OB/GYNs do that. She didn’t?”
“No, thank God. The only thing different was that I had to give blood. She said our insurance company made blood testing for sexually transmitted diseases mandatory, which I get for those, like you, who are sexually active, but I don’t know why they have to test me.”
I wasn’t calling my sister a slut or anything like that, and she knew that…I hoped.
“I guess they do it in case you’re lying about your sexual history. And I’m not that sexually active. You make me sound like a ho-bag. I’ve only slept with two different men in the last two years.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. The entire thing annoys me and reminds me of how alone I’ve been. When is your next appointment with her?”
“Two weeks from now. You promise Dr. Snider doesn’t do the butt thing?”
“I promise. Now get back to your restaurant and make me lunch,” I said, waving my sister from my office and laughing when she stuck her tongue out at me.