O B G Y am I iN here again?

Like many Americans, I find going to the gynecologist uncomfortable. But over the past couple of days, I have been exposed, in varying degrees, to the wonderful world of Obstetrics and gynaecology. 

Let’s start with my trip to the delivery room. Normally, if a guy is hanging out in the delivery room, he’s there because the condom broke – secretly wishing Maury Povich would pop out of the bathroom screaming, “Not the father!” But I had no such secret wishes, because I was in the wrong room. I didn’t realize my mistake until half-way through videoing the experience and the nurses threw me out. I thought Karen looked a lot more tan than I remembered!

Making my way to Craig and Karen’s room, I paused to reflect on my own memories of my son’s birth. I was freaked out because his head looked like a football and he was the color of grape jam! I knew that Craig would be feeling similarly and so I walked in prepared to offer solace to my old, dear friend.

It wasn’t long into my lecture on proper use of birth control before the nurses threw me out of this room, too.

The nerve of some people…

So anyways, an hour later and my dear friends welcomed little Kenzie into the world. I left knowing that sleep would be a thing of the past for these two, and also knowing that I would return the next day to meet little Kenzie for the first time.

The next day, I accompanied my girlfriend to an OBGYN appointment. We were there to ensure that we didn’t have an unexpected bundle of joy introduced into our equation – by getting an IUD. I had offered to accompany her into the back as moral support, but I assumed she would have me wait in the waiting room.

As I sat down, this young, pregnant black girl gravitated over to us. As Jo checked in, this girl smiled and nodded and sat down. Jo turned around and saw our new “buddy.”

My beautiful, expressive girlfriend looked at me as if to ask “why the hell did you pick a seat to wait next to the only other person in the office?”

But before I could give a look that would have said, “I feel the exact answer to query is much to in-depth to be given via facial expression alone,” the girl began to ask us questions.

Without even a warm up question, she looked Jo in the eye and asked her if she was pregnant. Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to encourage conversation, Jo merely answered with a curt “no.”

Undaunted, or perhaps taking Jo’s answer as an invitation to chat, the girl began to tell us her life story.

She also told us that we should be pushing out babies like an assembly line in China makes cheap electronics.

We sympathized with the girls plight of having two kids already that were being raised by her mother, but tried our best to dissuade any further discussions.

When the nurse came out to call Jo back, I immediately jumped up and said “that’s us!”

Jo merely looked at me comically as we went back into the examination room.

Once back there, she asked “what the hell were you thinking sitting next to someone like that.” I then told her how the girl meandered over to me after I had already sat down. The inappropriate talker apparently needed someone to vent with. Perhaps she wouldn’t have needed to vent had she gotten an IUD after her second child was born…

The Doctor came in to perform the procedure and we all shared a laugh at the inappropriate talkers expense.

As the procedure started, I marveled at the fact that I was still conscious. I watched her poke and prod and I almost came close to saying that the IUD would be unnecessary because after witnessing such a thing, I didn’t think I could ever have sex again.

In mere moments the event was over and we were ready to leave. The Doctor looked at us as she left saying, “The IUD is effective immediately, you two enjoy your weekend.”

You know what…after what I witnessed…I may never enjoy a weekend again…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s