This weekend was somewhat of a doozy, starting with a gynecologist appointment that I'm about to tell you all about with a good amount of TMI. Because if there's one thing I pride myself in it's my uncanny ability to go the extra mile, nay, the extra marathon, when it comes to "oh, she went there." Because openness is my policy and I aim to please. Anway, here's how my Friday went-
We all woke up around 8, since I expected my appointment to be at 10, a big misstep on my behalf. My dad used to tell me "assumptions are the mother of all fuck ups." And he's right, because well, I fucked up. I make all my appointments in the morning, usually around 10, and when I didn't get confirmation during this appointment I assumed I had just scheduled it when I normally do, but to be sure I called them that morning and discovered it was at 2. Greg had blocked off the morning and made arrangements at work assuming I was right, and when I wasn't it really threw his day into a time crunch and stress knot. He had meetings with VP's at 1, projects to finish and tests to run and I felt like an idiot. The stay at home mom whose job is to have a handle on this sort of shit and I couldn't even do that correctly. We got into a morning squabble and the bad mood just hung over our heads until the appointment arrived...so there was that.
We sit in the doctor's office amidst about 5 families who are obviously not there for birth control as their 4-6 child broods run all over the office screeching and throwing NuvaRing pamphlets around. I thumb through Parent's magazine and immediately become bombarded with a whole NEW batch of stuff to worry about when it comes to your children and vagina. Did you know grapefruits, of the fruit AND juice variety, can mess with your prescriptions? I didn't either. But there's a new question for the 23 year old pharmacy intern that I always manage to get at Walgreen's. They finally call my name and immediately I picture my cervix as a german shepherd about to be neutered, looking up at me with knowing eyes that scream "you sure about this boss?" Yes, yes I'm sure about this Sparky. No babies for awhile.
I go in and guess who gets the intern again?! I lay on my back, legs splayed and straight faced. My doctor directs the bright eyed intern around my nethers and all the while, I'm on my period. The second day in fact, so it's not like this is a pink welcoming banner. More like walking into a scene from Nightmare on Elm Street.
"God, I'm going to be talked about at the kegger this chick goes to tonight," I think.
She then administers the "duck lips" in the most awkward fashion I'd experienced, actually pinching me a bit.
"Oh! Are you okay?!?"
"Yeah, I'm just a little twitchy."
My words are nicer than my thoughts a majority of the time.
My doc advises her to go in a little deeper as if I actually WANT to be screwed by Robocop. But she was right, the way the intern was doing it was like Robocop needed Viagra. Like I'd have to explain to the "duck lips" that "it happens to everybody."
Once we get all set up and ready to party, I hold Greg's hand (yes, I made him go in there, because if he gets to spray sperm around all willy nilly, he gets to watch what I have to go through in order to deal with all the aforementioned man freedoms) and listen as my group of vaginal support each exclaim little observations-
"Wow, you really hold in all the pain."
-Yes, in my stomach as a matter of fact, so if I vomit later, I apologize."
"You're cervix isn't very open."
- I know, it's like Fort Knox.
And they try and insert the Paragard, I flinch, cry, taste metal and feel like I'm going to pass out and then I throw up in the adjacent sink. Just like old times.
"I'm not sure it's in properly so we're going to do an ultrasound."
We go in there and she applies what looks like a condom on this 7-9 inch probe and goes in there. I look at the screen and cross my fingers that I don't have to go through all the bullshit again. That I'll see Face from 90's Nick Jr. cover the screen with his smile saying "yes, it's all good Amanda!"
"Yay! You're good to go starshine!"
But it was more like
"Oh shit! They messed your stuff up guurrrl!"
"Yeah. Not even close. It's not even in your cervix."
I pretty much have a new hole gouged right by my cervix now. Like a shitty Claire's piercing. She takes out the IUD and informs me that I have to allow myself at least two weeks for my new underground railroad to heal. They have to order another IUD and we'll try again next month. Which means I'm on the pill for another month. I get to take a pill that is supposed to dilate my cervix the night before my appointment, and I've asked that we use a local anesthetic for next time. Because I hate pain in and around that area so much I need a horse tranquilizer just to make an appointment.
I left the office crying behind my sunglasses. This is not the first time my body has failed me. And now I had to keep swallowing hormones for another month. Greg and I had fought that morning. He had to go back to work as I watched Jack alone and cramping, disappointed and angry. And that was how my Friday went...
Until Greg got home and greeted me at the door with flowers and more understanding than the morning allowed for the both of us. When you rush out of doors sometimes you forget more than your sunglasses or wallet. You forget your calm, you forget your empathy in a mad rush. But thank god for a man that recognizes you can make up for it when you walk back through.
That night I bought a red velvet cake, some delicious food and washed the day away in Mad Men reruns and ginger ale. And everything was back to normal...for at least 13 hours.
Saturday we had a car appointment. One that would take over 3 hours so we arranged for a lunch with the in-laws at a nearby restaurant while we waited. We left a little early so we could take Jack to the park beforehand even though we only lasted about 20 minutes once we felt the full force of our 106 degree Tucson heat. We couldn't swing, slide or sit without burning ourselves so we called it off and went in search of refreshments at a nearby CVS. Greg runs inside and I turn on the AC. Greg comes back in five minutes or so, turns the key and gggggvvvgvgkuhvasfo. The battery had died. Luckily, it died across the street from the restaurant we were meeting Greg's parents at. So Greg runs across one of the busiest intersections in Tucson, has his dad come back to jump us and man, waiting there, even if it was only ten minutes or so, in that heat felt like an eternity. Jack was red as a lobster, sweating more than any toddler should be able to sweat. My makeup felt like it was running down my face and even though I wasn't in direct sunlight, my legs were getting burned.
And so goes my plans to move to Portland or Seattle. Just kidding. Kind of....
The remainder of the day went well. Delicious food with people I love and later on I went downtown for a little fashion show/clothing line launch at Preen, visited our beloved Hotel Congress for ample margaritas and patio people watching/chatting.
Sunday I made Greg and Jack pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. We visited the in-laws again and hung out by the pool with Chipotle and a very excited Jack.
So all in all, a long bipolar weekend that in retrospect went by far faster than any of us would have liked.
And a Happy (belated) Father's Day to all of our spousefolk, parents, in-laws, etc.
I know I couldn't do it without my calmer more level headed half.
Greg, Jack '08
Greg, Jack '10
And some pretty cool dad pics I found off the web-
And a pretty bitchin' mom pic of Jerry Hall (Mick Jagger's main baby mama) that I happened to stumble upon while trying to find a cool pic of Jagger with any one of his lovechildren-
Hope you all had a great weekend and a lovely Father's Day!