Thank God I’m A Man

Indeed, good for you doctor, good for you.  I had emailed because I was having trouble with “vaginal dryness”.  Ugh, vaginal dryness sounds so barren, but that’s what I am now, barren.  Jules had said that there were hormones for this and Dr. J, had concurred but he said it was time for me to come in for a checkup so why didn’t I book an appointment and he’d prescribe the meds then.

There was something else that I had been wanting to discuss with Dr. Jones and this would be a good time to do that.  When I was going through pre-menopause, or perimenopause I had quite a time with being cranky.  I had to end conference calls early, before we had addressed all of the action items because the men were just too infuriating.  I’d hang up and say to myself, was John Pryor being more annoying than usual?  No, he was his usual self.  Was Walt Bingham more “knowing” than usual?  Nope.  Was Cass more pompous?  Not at all, he was his usual charmingly pompous self.  So why?  why? Were they getting on my nerves?  The best I could come up with was hormonal changes.  My period had started to become inconsistent and I was having a bit of an issue getting enough sleep and I WAS CRANKY.  I mentioned this to my next door neighbor and she had been having these issues as well, but her doctor had given her something for it.  I went in to Dr. Jones and asked him to do something for me.  He had me take a blood test and since I was not in *the range* for menopause he had nothing but prozac to give me.  I was already on prozac so it was suggested that I up my dose.  Although I did do this, it wasn’t really the solution.  Anyhow, I’m through menopause now, for the most part, the moods have evened out and I wanted to let Dr. Jones know what had transpired in the hope that he, as “one who caters to the health of women” could use this information to help other patients who had experienced the same thing. 

Dr. Jones  is my age? maybe a few years older.  He’s done quite a bit of volunteer work in the community with abused women.  He owns a halfway house for recovering women.  I had mentored one of the women who had gone there.  A friend of mine had been going to him for years.  I’ve been going to him for years.  He’s usually pretty jolly and goes up and down with being a bit fat.  Sometimes his pants need hemming, sometimes his lab coat has a coffee stain.  He’s one of those comfortable looking people.

Anyhow, I’m in the stirrups, set position for a pap smear if you will, and I start to tell Dr. Jones about how I felt I should have had some  treatment for my menopause symptoms when I was having trouble, something for him to think about with his other patients.  I was matter of fact, not mean, not sarcastic.  I think he had made a bad call and needed to know it. He taps my knee and says “hold on just a second”  he turns towards the window, which I am just now noticing, has the blinds up.  Oh, but the windows must be tinted.  Did that person walking across the street just look up into this window and spill his Starbucks all over himself?  I think he did.  Dr. Jones turns towards the window, arms up over his head and says, “Thank God I was born a man!”  

Oh.

He then turns back to me and says that all of the gynecologists coming up behind him, “I am a dinosaur”, are women and that they should be able to figure this out.  And yes, “Menopause is hell.”

Well.

He then proceeded to tell me what he was doing for Thanksgiving and  asked me about my holiday plans while he continued with the exam.

Time for a new OBGYN.

Tom, my husband, has found this so hilarious that he has taken to spontaneously throwing his arms over his head and exclaiming “Thank God I’m a man!”  on his way to the bathroom, or getting coffee, even tying his shoelaces…

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