This is an easy one for me.
When Doc really was my doc, and was allowed to be, he was exactly that, my doctor.
After we had been dating a while I found a huge cyst on my top inner butt crack. This was no pimple mind you, it was a cyst. Now keep in mind, the man is my boyfriend, we had already slept together way too numerous times to count.
However, when this cyst popped up, it came fairly quickly and grew rather large in a short amount of time. We both knew it had to be removed, not only because it hurt like hell, but because when cysts grow in places like that sometimes left untreated will cause them to, for lack of better terms, sprout and grow roots. And sometimes those roots will wind themselves about important blood vessels, spinal areas, nerves, etc. The thing went from the size of a pea to the size of a quarter in less than two weeks. I tried to pop it which did nothing but make it sore and just that more angry.
Remember we are 600 miles apart, so I was showing him pictures of it either over the cam or was taking pictures of it over my cell phone. So the time came, we both agreed, it needed to be surgerized. It was at this time Doc set the hard fast rule that I was NOT allowed to shave back there, up front was fine, but not in back because by not doing so I would allow him to help make the right diagnosis. In my opinion, there is nothing more disgusting that a woman's hairy butt crack, I don't mind hair up front, but nothing past the bottom of the vagina. Maybe I am paranoid, or maybe because I am half German, but it just seams to be a nasty little trait of mine that I don't really find attractive, and actually I find it highly annoying, not to mention quite disgusting. But hey, that's my opinion and standard I kept for me personally. Now the deal with a cyst is, they grow in a capsule, and in that capsule cluster of infection, not unlike a bunch of grapes form and grow. All of those pockets of infection have to either be popped and flushed out until the capsule is small enough to be completely removed without leaving a huge crater at the site that needs major packing and debredmemt on a daily basis until it's small enough to be removed, or you can get lucky and remove everything all at once, which for the most part depends on the size underneath the surface, any and all roots it may have sprouted out, or its total mass.
I was due for my yearly physical anyway, so we decided that I would fly out there and kill two birds with one stone. Anytime I was in his office for any sort of medical stuff I was always nervous, he wasn't but I was. I can chalk a lot of that up to white coat syndrome though, but only about 30 percent could be attributed to that.
So I found myself up on his exam a table when he sat down on his black stool and started asking me a thousand and one questions, questions I assumed he already knew and told him so accordingly. Questions like when my last period ended, if I was in first, middle of latter stages of my cycle. He asked about the birth control pills he had earlier prescribed, if they were working, and how I felt while I was taking them? In my quick whit I responded, well I don't feel like a total bitch as much as I used to, and apparently I have not gotten pregnant yet, then I snickered. He grinned some, then more of the same sort of questions. I answered them the best I could remember. When the question and answer portion of the physical were over he reached in the cabinet and took out a gown and told me "everything off, but you can keep your socks on if you want. Opening to the front please for me if you could. I nodded in understanding and out the door he walked.
I quickly undressed and sat back down on the chair beside the exam table, and no sooner than I did, I heard him knock at the door. In he walked. I think he was a little shocked to see me in the chair as apposed to up on the exam table. Then he asked me to hop on the table on my belly and to pull my gown up to the arch of my back. I wasn't quite ready for that yet, I thought I was going to get my physical first, and asked him accordingly. He said, "not to worry, your exam is coming, but first you, according to your records have three injections coming first, then we will head on over to the procedure room."
So, up on the table I went, but I didn't pull my gown up, I forgot, and I was too nervous. So after removing several alcohol prep pads from his top drawer, he opened them up. "and since I already have you on your belly, I might as well get a rectal temp too." That again I was in no mind frame to accept, and no position to deny him either.
The next packet I heard him open was the lubricating jelly. And sure enough, without a blink of an eye, he pulled my gown up to the small of my back exposing my entire fanny for his inspection, and then with his gloved hand he inserted the thermometer into my backside. I had mixed feelings about that actually, embarrassment, felt childish, and not to mention just a bit silly if that makes any sense? But again, what choice did I really have at that point? Besides that, it definitely wasn't something that I really hated, I found it to be overall quite relaxing.
He told me he was going to let that register for a few minutes while he went and made sure the gyn room was all set up and prepared for his next patient....me. Since that room was only across the hall, he again returned rather quickly, too quickly for the thermometer to be pulled and read.
My next question to him was, 'so, what's in the syringes Doctor?" He replied, "well according to your chart, you need your flu shot, a tetanus booster, and you are also due for your adult MMR." So then I said Okay 2 in the butt, and on in the arm, okay." Then he said, "what makes you think you are getting one in your arm?" To which I replied, "an MMR is sub g, it doesn't have to go in my fanny, it can go in my arm." His final reply was, "Well remember Nurse, sub q means under the skin and not in a muscle, correct? And from my position I can see many places that a sub q injection could be administered back here." Well, I hate to admit it, but he was correct, just about any place you have skin, a sub q can be administered, oh, and I never admitted that to him either, lol. I knew I wasn't in any sort of position to argue with him on that valid point, and besides that, what choice did I have, it wasn't like I could just get up and walk out, lol.
So with gown pulled up to the small of my back, fanny totally exposed, tops of my thighs and all of my legs just hanging out there for the entire world to see, I laid there like a good little patient waiting for my three injections. The first one was wiped clean down and out of the way of where an IM would safely be administered, thus bringing me to the conclusion that he went for the sub q first. And I was right, it stung just slightly and just for a quick second and then was gone. "now that wasn't so bad now was it?" "No Doctor, it wasn't bad at all."
Next I felt the prep pad over my left cheek. Not being able to see which one he picked up I sort of got, for lack of better terms, clinchy back there in the tushy department. My nervousness was really starting to kick into full gear at this point. He kept telling me to relax, it was for my oen good and it would be over a lot faster if I would cooperate, and again, I knew he was very much right, and it's a good thing I was his last patient, lol. Next thing I knew, I felt the jab, in went the needle to the hub and he started pushing in the medication. I have to admit, it did't really hurt much at all. On a later note though, lets just say my left butt cheek was "feeling" very well loved though its soreness over the next few days. I came to the realization that this was the tetanus booster. And folks, you yourselves a favor, if you ever have to get a tetanus booster, demand it in the tush. First and foremost, it doesn't really even sting much or if all during the application, and for a day or so you are a little tender, where as in your arm, you entire arm hurts a lot of the time, and for some actually rendering it almost useless for a few days. So please, trust me on this.
Okay 2/3rds of the way done as far as the shots are concerned. The last one was the flu shot, one that I have had many times. However, in my book flu shots are also those shots that I like to call the creepers. They don't hardly hurt at all when receiving them, but the next day they can, do, and often produce a very sore injection site. This one would prove to be no different actually. So by the next day my backside really was feeling quite loved. So now the shots were over, temp time. He expelled the thermometer and it read 99.4' Exactly perfect for a rectal temp if I do say so myself.
Then we headed over to the gyn room for my complete physical. I have to admit, it was the best pap I have ever had. No pain, no bleeding, it was fantastic. And if you ever get the chance for Doc to do your doctoring, trust me, he's the absolute best. And I am not just saying that either, I mean it.
So next I was brought back over to the other side of the office to the procedure room. Here's where the real embarrassment come in. About 2 weeks earlier I was given strict orders NOT to shave back there. This was very very hard for me. I don't mind letting the front grow out some, but ummm, back there, never. I feel like I have a hairy butt, but over the years I have seen many and many and many hairy butts, and in comparison, mine pales, but still I don't like it at all.
He tossed on another set of gloves to get a better look and to see if he could fin the root and or head. He excused himself and when he returned, the brought with him the other doc in the office for a second opinion. She took one look and said, "yep definitely not a pimple. She then put on her own set of gloves and was poking around at it, which let me just say, didn't feel good at all by any shape or form. Both doctors left the exam room and shut the door, I know now they were conversing about, which the best and the proper way to go about this, what kinds of meds prior and post, and due to the size and nature of my beast, something would have to be given to me during the procedure as well. Once all was decided, they both returned. Again, I don't no what I was thinking, but was dead wrong. I figured she would look, the leave. Oh hell no, she stayed for the entire procedure.
I was totally embarrassed and completely mortified when she came in and inspected it with her own two eyes to start with, but knowing she was going to be there for the entire shoot-in match was not sitting well with me at all. I in all actuality was not sitting well with any of it. He asked me to again lay down on my belly where he lifted my gown up to my lower back and with 3 diabetic syringes filled with lodicaine, he wiped of the area and stuck in one of the needles into the surrounding area. I let out one hell of a yelp. He stopped and waited a few minutes, then went back in again, but oddly enough for some reason, no pain relief was felt, but almost seemed the pain got a lot worse.
Next thing I remember I was sitting back up having a complete and full blown panic attack My breathing was off the charts, I started getting diapheretic, and suddenly I was hitting the "fight or flight" mentality. I somehow had to find a way out of this situation and of this building. Doc and the partner Doc came over to comfort me, they were doing the best they could, but in reality, having them that close was scaring me even more and making me want to get up and leave.
After about 20 minutes of this with no change for the better, only the worse, as now I was starting to shake and cry for some odd reason,as my breathing kept escalating, lips were turning nice shades of blue, fingers and toes were getting numb, my body had thrown itself into a complete melt down, and from what little medical knowledge I have in that department, I'm guessing logically and medically speaking not only was I hyperventilating, but probably going into a sort of shock like state where your body stops sending the entire blood supply to your extremities and keeps it centered in your torso portion to keep it as safe and as functioning as properly as it should, so by keeping the majority of the blood supply close to and contained to the torso so as to keep all major and important life sustaining organs with enough blood supply to continue life. This is what I commonly refer to as stage II. When stage II hit, my good doctor again excused himself. He was only gone for a minute or two tough. And in plain site he had a syringe with a rather long and thick needle full of clear medication in it, as well as another prep pad. I was still sitting up somewhat.
Doc walked into the room with an authoritative tone as well as body actions and promptly told me to get on my belly because he had something that would calm me down. Well, I honestly wasn't ready to lay down, but I half sitting rolled over enough for him to get at my hip where once again, I felt the cold alcohol pad swipe across my left hip and he jabbed me. At that time I didn't know what it was he was giving me, but it was cold, thick and burned like a mother trucker. Needless to say in less than 20 minutes, while I was still wide awake, I had basically returned to my previously state and was basically putty in their hands.
Again I was ordered on my belly, still highly embarrassed mind you, but much calmer and a lot less jittery and having those over whelming feelings of the "fight or flightless" mentality. Then as if I wasn't already embarrassed enough Doc taped both sides of my butt cheeks open with tape to the bilateral sides of be table to keep me spread open without another set of hands. Oy Vey!
Keep in mind, both Doc's were still in the exam room. I was knocked out, but when I woke up, I, which, unbenounced to me by the way, said some very very very embarrassing things. According to Doc himself, I pretty much looked him in the face and told him I wanted to F**K his brains out. The second thing I said was, "Doc, I am not one to talk because I am a chubby girl, but you carry your weight around your belly and study after study have documented that men who carry their weight about their belly are like at a 70 percent higher risk for a heart attack/stroke.(seriously I can't remember now which one which is), but the point is, I, a nurse was criticizing a doctor, not at all cool. But in my defence, it was not all meant to be a crack, it was actually meant to be a message to him that I care. God's honest truth. Then the third thing I blurted out of my mouth was in response to what he was saying, now keep in mind I was still highly under the influence, but proves a point when I an, if I ever am going to get done with this post. Doc told me that he was going to write me a script for an antibiotic. And this is where I am trying to tell you, no matter what state of mind a real met fetter is in, stone cold sober all the way up to still being under the influence of anesthesia, being and having a true med fet IS who you are, it's in you (dare I say it) almost in your genetic make-up, it is who you are as a person, and one way or another it will eventually come out whether you like it or not.
So after Doc tells me he is going to write me for an antibiotic script, I pretty much point blank told him to not even bother. I don't take pills very well. I can manage to take my birth control pills regularly because it's a once a day thing, but writing me for an ATB 4 times, 3 times, or most likely even 2 times a day won't happen for me. I'm too busy, I always forget, and I never finish off the entire script like I should. Isn't there some sort of shot you can give me instead of the pills?
The look on his face was priceless according to his partner. He then replied, "well, you herd the little lady, a shot it will be then." Then out the door he walked, in a few minutes he was back in with yet another syringe filled with a sort of yellowish solution attached to what looked like a pretty huge 18 gauge needle if I'm not mistaken. We had that momentary brief stare down that we often have which establishes the dominant person at the time. I was in no position try to win, so I diverted my gaze which instantly told him he won. So t hen he says, "you know the drill." And he was right, I did, so for one last time that night I found myself on my belly having a needle stuck in my fanny, which by the way, IM Rocephin packs one hell of a bite, don't let anyone tell you differently. lol.
So to quickly recap after all my mumble jumble, again, see what insomnia does to you? lol. My most embarrassing medical procedure was having the cyst take out of my fanny because..1) There were 2 docs in the room able to see my "special place"
2) I had a panic attack half naked up on an exam table, and not at all handling it well at all.
3) I had my butt cheeks held open exposing me even more with surgical tape to the table.
4) I told my doctor I wanted to F**k his brains out in front of his partner none the less.
5) I told my doctor that he needed to lose weight, keeping in mind that when we met I was 5'4" and was pushing 240 lbs, now that rich!
6) Even under anesthesia medications I refused the pill form of a medication and specifically asked for an IM injection.
7)I was made, "per doctors orders" to not and I repeat I was NOT allowed to shave my crack.
So kids, I am not sure how much more embarrassing a procedure could be than this one, at least not for me anyway. I can somewhat laugh at it now, but I wasn't laughing then, trust me, lol.
Mashie.