I felt almost disembodied, like my mind was not quite tethered to my physical body, which was about to undergo an exam at the hands of Dr. Cole Becker, neighbor of yours truly. This was the only way that I could do this, though. I closed my eyes.
I heard the water turn off, and I was vaguely aware of him settling down on a rolling stool, positioned between my legs. My face burned. Was this actually happening?
“I ran the speculum under warm water, so it shouldn’t be too cold,” he said. “I’m going to put my hand here—” I felt his warm palm on my left inner thigh, “and then you’re going to feel the speculum go in—” The metal was lukewarm against my skin, and the lubricant he must’ve put on speculum was cool and slippery. “Okay, there we go. It’s in.”
I wished he would stop narrating; I didn’t need to know every detail. In fact, if he stopped talking about it, I could allow myself to pretend that I was somewhere else completely.
“I’m going to just take a sample now,” he said, “and then we’ll be all done with this part of it. How are you doing?”
“Just fine!” I said, my voice a little too bright.
I hummed a song in my head and felt a strange poking sensation inside of me. “All set,” he said. “And now I’m going to take the speculum out. There we go. You can take your feet out of the stirrups and slide back, but stay lying down.”
“Oh,” I said, as I pulled my legs out. “We’re not done yet?”
“I just need to do a breast exam, and then we’ll be done and you can get dressed.”
Great, the humiliations continued. “Just put your arm above your head, good, just like that.” As I lifted my arm, the stupid paper dressing gown fell open, and there I was, completely exposed, though feeling bashful about that was ridiculous considering he’d just been poking around in my vagina.
I stared at a spot on the ceiling while he kneaded his fingers into one breast, then the other. Both times, my nipples got hard, even though the room was fairly warm. I hoped that he didn’t notice, or if he did, that it was a normal sort of occurrence. If I hadn’t been so mortified by the entire scenario, I might have been able to acknowledge the fact that the whole thing was a bit arousing.
And then finally, mercifully, it was over. He closed the gown over me, and I sat up, clasping it around me.
“So do you have any concerns or anything you’d like to talk about?” he asked.
“Um... it kind of burns when I go to the bathroom.”
“How long has that been going on for?”
“A little while now.”
“Any other symptoms?”
I tried to remember. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you feel like you need to urinate more than normal?”
“Um... no, I wouldn’t say so.”
“Any pain or feelings of discomfort in your back or lower abdomen?”
“No.”
“No fever or chills?”
“No, none of that.”
He nodded. “You left a urine sample already, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll order a culture test on that and should have the results back in the next day or so. If it comes back positive, I’ll write you a script for some antibiotics and that should clear it up. But of course, give us a call if your symptoms noticeably worsen in the meantime.”
“I will,” I said. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “You settling in okay?”
“Yeah, things are pretty good.”