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Note: Although I don't get too graphic in this entry, if you're at all squeamish about girl things... You might not want to read this.

I had my first pelvic exam and Pap smear today.

I was really tense. I woke up at about 9am, showered, and sat around for a few hours. I tried to do some writing, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept worrying about the exam. (I must have gone to the bathroom six or seven times, just to make sure I was really clean down there.)

My appointment was for noon, so at 11:50 I was sitting in my car in front of the Planned Parenthood office. Glancing up and down the street, I saw several other women waiting in their cars, all staring at the CLOSED sign on the door. I knew they opened at noon, but for some reason I'd expected them to let us in a bit earlier.

At 11:59 they flipped the sign over and let us in. I let myself settle into the familiar rhythm of filling out paperwork and answering questions. Family history. Medical background. Allergies. Current medications.

There was quite a group of us in that first batch, including a guy. I knew that Planned Parenthood provided reproductive health exams and counseling for both males and females, but for some reason the guy totally stood out of the crowd. I reminded myself that up until a year ago, I wasn't even aware of what Planned Parenthood did, other than supply condoms. I'm sure that even now, my understanding of all the services they provide is pretty narrow.

I had to wait for a fairly long time. They had apparently double-booked their appointments, and no one had cancelled. While I was waiting, several other people came in. I was sitting close to the desk, so I could hear most of the hushed conversation. (I wasn't purposefully eavesdropping; there just wasn't anything else for me to pay attention to.) Most of the people came in to pick up new pill prescriptions. A few guys came in to buy condoms. One guy carefully selected his: "One of the lubricated, two of the magnums, and two with the spermicide." I wondered idly if he used a different condom depending on his mood and/or partner, or if he was just trying out some new ones.

I recognized one of the patients who came in. She was a girl that I went to high school with. She was one of the skankiest skanks of the skank bunch, sleeping with every guy who wandered her way. I wasn't surprised to see her with two kids in tow, and even less surprised at her request for a pregnancy test.

...not that I was listening or anything. She didn't seem to recognize me. I made no attempt to introduce myself.

Finally, at about 1pm, they called my name. I followed the nurse back to an exam room. She was pleasant and open to my questions. For some reason I'd been expecting the staff to be a bit brusque in their dealings with patients; perhaps I've been too conditioned by the right-wing's slandering of the organization. She took note of my height (5'5"), weight (208 lbs with my boots on sigh), blood pressure (124/60), and asked if I've been having any problems. I told her about the Things That Are Wrong down there.

I had to pee really bad. I knew that they were going to ask for a urine sample, so I drank two glasses of water before my appointment. "Can we do the urine sample now?" I asked plaintively. The nurse cheerfully noticed my distress and showed me to the bathroom. I could have given them six samples!

Back in the exam room, I was told to strip. All the way. "You can keep your socks on if that makes you feel better," said the nurse as she shut the door.

A few minutes later I was laying back on the exam table, wearing only my ring, my necklace, and my socks. I covered myself as best I could with the extra-large paper towel they had given me. Staring up at the ceiling, my mind once again played through all the horrible things I could have. The room was rather chilly. Did my socks smell? God, I hoped I wiped myself well after giving my sample.

When the knock on the door came, I was anything but relaxed. The petite, older woman who came in gave me a cheery "Hello! How are you?" She exuded calm. Just talking with her put me more at ease.

We talked for a while before she started the exam. Apparently, I do lots of things right. I do monthly self breast exams. I don't douche. I use condoms every single time I have sex (well, duh.) She did seem a bit surprised that I'd never had a pelvic exam before, but she said she was honored to be the first. grin She said the first exam sets the tone for how I'll see pelvic exams for the rest of my life. I don't know about that, but that comment sort of set me on edge. Anyone who's that confident about things always makes me nervous.

After a long talk about birth control pills and my concerns about them (clotting, weight gain, migraines, breast tenderness, loss of sex drive), she started the exam. While she started the breast exam, she tried to make conversation about the weather. All I could muster was a half-hearted grunt. When I shifted so that she could do the other breast, the paper towel moved slightly so she could see my necklace. "Oooh," she said. "That's a neat necklace."

I smiled. "Thanks. My fiancé gave it to me." I relaxed a little more.

She started feeling my abdomen, explaining what she was feeling for as she went along. "So where do you work?" she asked.

"County paratransit." She wasn't really sure what that was, but when I explained it she knew what I was talking about. "I live in the next county," she said. "I think it's called SCAT over there."

I nodded as she moved down towards the foot of the table. As she started the next stage of the exam, she started telling me a story about her experience with SCAT, interspersing it with explanations of what she was doing. "I'd been exercising the day before," she said. I felt the cool metal of the speculum. "I was terribly sore. I was getting on the expressway when my car broke down." She opened it, and I felt myself being stretched, like I feel with I'm with Dave. "A SCAT driver sees me walking up the onramp, and he pulls over to let me on. For free!" I chuckled, and heard a spritz spritz. "He does a U-turn on the expressway, and drops me off at a garage so I can get a tow." She slid the speculum out, and did the internal exam with her fingers. "For a while I thought he was just being nice, but it later occurred to me that I was walking all hunched over, since I was so sore from exercising!"

She stood up. "Well, I'll be right back with some prescriptions for you. You can go ahead and get dressed."

I frowned, puzzled. "Um, weren't you going to do a Pap smear?"

She smiled. "Already did it. Did you hear the squirting sound?" I nodded. "That was the fixative."

"I didn't even feel it!" I was really surprised, since everything I'd read had led me to believe that I'd feel ... something. "Thank you so much."

Another smile. "My pleasure."

Obviously, I won't know anything about the Pap smear for at least a few days. But I am the proud owner of a bacterial vaginosis infection. It's the most common vaginal infection caused by bacteria, and is apparently the cause of the Things That Are Wrong down there. I got a prescription to help clear that up.

I also got a prescription for Ortho-Tri-Cyclin, which I'm pretty excited about. I'm not really planning on using it for birth control (not even when it'll be "safe"), since right now I'd just prefer to stick with condoms. (It just makes me feel better, ya know?) Hopefully, it'll make the red menace not so menacing.

And that was my exam. Not the terrible horrible thing I'd worked it up into, and hopefully the Pap will come out all right. But I do feel much better, having finally gotten it out of the way.