U.P.O. Update

I made an appointment finally with the UPO doctor who will see me on May 28 (first new patient appointment available.) They have this cool online registration so you don't have to get there half an hour early to fill out the forms which I liked. But here's a weirdness, first the patient profile asks for gender. Seriously? Do that many men go to the gyno? Secondly under birth control we are offered a vast choice menu none of which include my own method (tubal ligation.) I could choose barrier, spermicide, oral contraceptive, IUD, vasectomy even! Did tubals go out of fashion and no one told me? I feel like I should pick up a pack of condoms so I fit in with men at my gyno office.

Of course, the day after I make my appointment I am home after being up half the night with UPO/third ovary pain. After laying there from 3 a.m. until 5:30 getting increasingly frustrated that I had to get to sleep for work I decided, what the heck? I'm calling off. I make calling off such a big deal like I'm deciding whether to donate a kidney. Actually I once offered to donate a kidney (true story) with much less hesitation. The pain isn't the worst it's ever been but it ain't exactly a good time either. It radiates down my right leg and around my back with some heaviness in the area. Oh, and get this! I go to doctors all within one health system for ease of communication knowing that our hospital can access the records from any facility within the system. So I call the non-gender-discriminatory gyno with the space age online registration and tell her about my labs, recent pap, ultrasound, etc. and she asks me to bring copies to the office. I say, "They were all within your system, can you just access them?" Nope! It's not a huge deal so much as seems like a fairly easy thing to hook up. Maybe the doctor's offices don't have access to the mother ship or some such thing.

And let me tell you this brothers and sisters! If I have to have another pelvic after having one in November and being promised, PROMISED that I need not have another for three years I am going to be very unhappy. If you were here with me I would demonstrate my Papdance. It's not unlike the safety dance. It goes like this:

You lay on your back with feet in the stirrups and immediately being sweating profusely while freezing at the same time. Your lower regions are draped with the paper sheet so you can't see the troops moving in and are dependent on the voice updates ("Here we go. Relax. You're going to feel......") Then the dance begins. You realize the dance has begun because the doctor says things like, "Ok Mrs. Smith, doing fine. Just try to relax. Ok, hang in there. Relax for me. " And then the doctor will pat ever so gently on your outer leg at which point you realize that you are doing the back scoot by pushing against the stirrups. It is not unlike a mechanic pushing himself out from under a car. I actually did an impromptu demonstration of the Papdance at work yesterday albeit whilst sitting in an office chair. And fully clothed.

Speaking of at work and my support system there, they launched into a grand discussion of their prediction of a transvag ultrasound being required which is probably true. The point is they were enjoying the idea entirely too much especially in light of the Papdance. They are certain I will Papdance during this procedure. They are probably right.

And to prove that I have no better taste in work husbands than home husbands, my work husband has named the UPO Uncle Fester and has assigned a voice to it with which he speaks to me. This is so stupid because the voice sounds much more like Cousin It. I am certain the UPO would not sound like that. Then my other co-worker proceeds to suggest they send a microphone in with the ultrasound to find out who is right. This in a medical facility by health care professionals.

Well, that's all the news that's fit to print. For those of you gentlemen who do not go to the gyno yourself on a regular basis, you're welcome for the insider view.

Pic: Entitled 'A Kick To The Ovaries' which is how I feel.