I only have a few minutes to share this memory-making experience with you all because I am on a scrapbooking roll and the scorpian killer is here and when he's done I have to go pick up Mackenzie from activity days. (And, Yes, I know that was a really long sentence and I could have blogged about all those events individually, but I'm trying to streamline my life, so you just get one hurried post - let's not complain!)
Some of you regular readers (aka our friends and family) know how after Brock was born (in 2005) and we had 2 girls and 2 boys and a very full plate that I was feeling very complete (and blessed) as a family. Most of you know the story how Tyler conveniently "missed" [I call it chickened out] his consultation appointments with Dr. Snip Snip (in 2006) and was content with the "We'll wait for Sarah's other ovary to go bad" method. And if you're a true reader of this blog (even you lurkers) you'll remember/understand how our "surprise" baby #5 turned our super-organized and children-complete [or so we thought] world upside down (in 2007). BUT if you don't recall any of those spectacular moments in our life, it would be suffice to surmise that Mr. AND Mrs. Barlow are now BOTH committed to permenantly pass on by the procreation station of our lives (in 2008).
SO, that's how I found myself, this morning, at Dr. Snip Snip's office. I'll call him Dr. Snip Snip to protect his reputation (which, according to my OBGYN is that he's the Doc that "does" all the other docs.) The minute we walked into the waiting room I felt a little out of place. It was probably the fact that we were probably 30 years younger than anyone else in the waiting room. Or that I was walking in holding a baby carseat while the two out of the other three patients were in wheelchairs. The whole time Tyler was filling out his paperwork I was thinking of the roles the "supporters" played at the urologist. It's a tender area, let's face it, and I didn't know if I was calming Tyler's nerves at all, but I was grateful I didn't have to shout at him loud enough for the entire waiting room to hear, like the other two women who were "supporting" the other patients. When we had a question or comment we simply, quietly spoke while everyone else was broadcasting their situations. I totally got an earful about the 83 yr. olds' issue as his daughter dutifully filled out the paperwork and he deduced that it was the tomato paste when he made chili that did a number on his urethra. (He would say, "It must be the acid" and his 60-something daughter was getting a kick out of the questions, like, "What area is the problem affecting?") Also quite interesting was the super-elderly woman in a wheelchair with her daughter and son-in-law who kept asking when it was time to go home and the daughter kept saying, "When you get your bladder checked, honey." I thought, as I was sitting there taking care of Briggs, "One day you'll be rolling me into the urologist with your wife and you'll offer me water and try to be patient with me as you fill out all my paperwork." Anyhow, I know care-taking a parent can be thankless and tiresome, but they did give me something to watch while Tyler filled out his forms. Oh, and would it be bad if I admitted that I found it entertaining anytime the daughter of the elderly woman patient, kept saying "Shit!" when her mom coughed or when she knocked her Starbucks coffee cup over or when her husband tripped a little as he was headed outside?
Anyhow, while the waiting room gave me a lot to think about, the exam experience totally had me, well, laughing. I think, as a woman who's borne children, I am used to exams that start with "Here, pee in this cup," include a "Put this gown on and strip from the waist down" and end with a "We'll see you in a few weeks." Tyler, on the other hand, was about to lose it! When he came into the exam room after he pee'd in the cup he said, "I didn't know I was gonna have to do that" and bemoaned his lack of planning. "Oh ye of little experience," I thought! The nurse came in shortly after his deposit and took his blood pressure. She giggled a little when it was a little high and she asked, "Are you nervous?" You go girl. Probably at this point I was feeling a little satisfied in turn-about-being-fair-play and all that, but when she handed him a paper gown and told him to strip, then left him standing agape, I about lost it. Isn't that awful? I was sure I couldn't think of any words of comfort at that point (he was seriously trying to find the emergency exit out of the exam room or the candid camera hidden in a corner) so I did what any loving, supportive, nurturing wife would do . . . I totally started to laugh. Like. Tears were coming out and I couldn't catch my breath as I watched him panic-stricken wondering around totally bewildered at what to do first? I totally had to walk him through it: "Take your shoes off first," "You can leave your socks on," "Drape your pants on the carseat over there since I'm sitting in the chair," "No, babe, unless you want your sphincter checked, the gown opens in the front." And the whole time Tyler's comments ebbed and flowed from aghast to disgusted to embarrassed and back to shock . . . all over the humiliation chart. And I was wiping the tears. In effort to make him feel better I tried to encourage him to think about the future and how much better it would be, to, ya know, which he stopped me pretty quick and said he didn't want to think about that. We tried making conversation about what kind of person becomes a urologist, but that didn't help him out either because he was mortified when I suggested him going to a female urologist instead of Dr. Snip Snip. Bless his heart. It was really trying for him. And I was STILL chuckling.
Well, pretty quick, Dr. Snip Snip came in and I immediately notice the Dr.'s laser-hair-removed arms, his flimsy handshake, and his high-lighted hair that could VERY well have been plugged into the top of his head. He asked what # Briggs was and didn't flinch when we said 5. He asked if we were sure we were done, and then took a gander at my, well, my gander. I just looked away at that point and listened to him tell Tyler what he'd be doing, how to shave, etc. And thankfully it was over. I KNOW, despite how medically professional Dr. Snip Snip was, Tyler felt completely violated and the only words of comfort I could give him once we were alone again were, "Now you kinda know what a woman goes through pretty much every OBGYN appt." Once we made the official appointment I decided we needed to go get some Mexican (his fave) and that tonight I'll give him something he really likes . . . chocolate cream pie. Cuz, nothin' says "Thanks for being fondled by a random stranger" like chocolate pie.