Check Up

Today I had my annual physical exam. I love getting these things out of the way. I feel like I've been so good to myself when I do. Annual physical exam. Check! Out of the way. I also threw in a flu shot for good measure. Every year I've skipped the flu shot has been one fraught with at least one case of a nasty flu that lingers for a minimum of three weeks. For me, it's like playing Russian Roulette. And I'm through with intentional gambling. When I got to the office, the new nurse, a male, ushered me in and started with the preliminaries, weight and blood pressure. The scale was dark. He thought the batteries were dead. I commented on what a shame it would be if we couldn't get my weight. With a little jiggling of wires and connection-checking, he got the thing going. Hmmm, lucky me. But the numbers weren't scary. I remembered that the doctor's scale weighs me two pounds less than mine does. My blood pressure was low, as usual. He also announced that they'd be doing a pap smear. I said, "Really? I'd forgotten I'd had one of those things." I guess I caught him off-guard. He almost fell out of his chair laughing. After a sizeable wait during which I read a book on my iPad, the doctor came in and asked questions. I told him about all the parts of me whose functioning are not up to snuff. Then I had to get into the stirrups. I suppose I have one of these smears every year but they're not memorable. However, the field seems to be advancing and I soon found out there has been a recent 'improvement' in the equipment. It was the incredible pain that first caught my naive attention. It's been a looonnnnngggg time since I've had cramping and bleeding in that vicinity. In fact, I felt as though frozen in a sort of living rigormortis. Then my body slowly curled into a 61-year-old fetal position. "Is it me, Doctor, or is there something going on?" He extracted what looked like a bright-red, miniature bottle brush. I was certain it had been a brilliant, sanitary white a minute ago. "It's something new." "A brush?" I asked. "Well, we call it a broom. I'll give you a pad for the bleeding." "A womb broom?" And a pad for to wear with the yoga pants? Subtle. I got my flu shot and limped to the car.