THE annoying

TASKS OF MAY

A week or so ago I wrote to you about my to do list for this month.

This included a month of not drinking (partially succeeded), a smear test, a breast examination, and getting an IUD inserted.

Because with these kinds of things it usually stays at the stage of ‘thinking’ and not ‘doing’, I want to tell you that it all worked out.

It started with a phone call to the GP and the question of whether I could get all the referrals. I didn't get any. I really had to see the doctor first. I could have dropped out here, but no, I was in.

I didn't need a referral. The doctor could feel my breasts herself. Yes, you read that right. Luckily, my own doctor (a man) was away for a month and there was a female substitute. Fine. I lay down, she examined everything, and voilà, the first item on my list was checked off.

Then the smear test. For some reason, I've been thirty for thirteen years (the age at which you get a smear test) but I've only “enjoyed” a smear test once. Then I was pregnant again, then I was on my period, then I didn't feel like it. You know how it goes.

“The assistant can do it for you.” Said the GP.

I didn't expect that. The next morning I could come in at 10:00.

When I walked in, the assistant immediately took off her rings. “I don't feel like it, but for you, it doesn't seem like a fun thing to do early in the morning.” I said. Not at all, was her answer. She didn't mind at all and asked me to lie down on the bed. It turned out I hold up was wearing stockings. I found that a bit strange.

So I tucked them a bit into my pants and off I went.

When it was done and the hold ups were back on my thighs, I brought up the topic of ‘the IUD’. It had been sitting in my fruit bowl for two years waiting for ‘someone’ to want to insert it. My doctor doesn't do that, and getting it placed somewhere else would cost half a pair of Jimmy Choos. Okay, Jimmy Choos on sale. But still. Enough reason to keep putting it off.

“This doctor does insert IUDs. She'll be here for another week, so I can make an appointment for you.” The assistant was quick about it. “But you do need to undergo an STI test.”

And for that, the same ritual with the speculum had to be repeated.

Again, I tucked the stockings into my pants (otherwise the assistant might think I always look so fancy), pulled my knees up as high as possible, and gently blew until the deed was done.

Then I even dropped off the samples at the hospital, and by the time you read this, my entire list will be checked off. That makes those few sneaky glasses of wine worth it, right?