On Friday, May 26, 2022, I went to the OBGYN for the very first time.
Let me set the scene.
I woke up anxious. After someone raising their voice at me at work over something very simple, my anxiety heightened (like, I’m for real deal preparing to get fired the first Monday of June). I couldn’t get my heart rate down, and to time skip a little, I definitely didn’t go back to work after my appointment.
Between the voice raising and the appointment, I had another endeavor to go on, which also heightened my heart rate. To calm myself, I made my trusty alfredo sauce pasta (yes, eating this four times a week is why I have high cholesterol).
Leading up to this, before the high heart rate inducing moments, several women told me how horrible pap smears are. Less than 24 hours before the appointment, I was told that I had to pee in a cup. Apparently you have to pee in a cup every time you go to an OBGYN. Knowing I don’t use the bathroom a lot like a regular person, I drank a lot more of anything than I normally would to make sure I had enough liquid in me to pee at my 3:30 pm appointment. Well, I accomplished that goal.
However, they never asked me to pee in a cup. So I started my appointment off already in pain because it was low key hurting to be holding my pee in.
Being my first time at the OBGYN, I tried to arrive thirty minutes early since I knew there was new patient paperwork. Per usual, I didn’t have enough time to finish it before I was called back.
When I walked back, I was weighed. Again, per usual, I hated it. She didn’t say it aloud, but when she was entering the data into the system, I saw where I weighed 144 pounds.
I’m the same weight I was when I was twelve. I’m trying really hard not to overthink about it, but the body dysmorphia is low key winning the mental battle.
Anyway… after being weighed, my blood pressure was taken. I could hear my heart beating in my ears after the events of the day, so I didn’t know what was going to come of it. Honestly, I don’t even know if heart rate and blood pressure correlate, but I was fine either way.
After figuring out the exact location of my pharmacy, the nurse (I’m pretty sure that’s who she was) instructed that I get completely undressed and put on a pink gown with the front open. She had to assist the doctor while I did this; when she got back, I struggled to keep my gown closed while we both worked to finish the new patient paperwork.
Eventually, the doctor came in (ten out of ten recommend getting a female gyno). With the speed she was talking, I realized I was the last patient of the day and girly just wanted to go home (honestly, a mood).
We started with some conversation, as expected. After telling her about my incredibly horrible periods, she went over the various kinds of birth control. She also said that since I’m still a virgin and I’m not sexually active (though I fully hope to be, to be honest), she wasn’t going to force the pap smear to happen if the tools couldn’t do their thing.
Before the actual exam, she randomly did a breast examination, which I wasn’t expecting and totally giggled the entire way through.
Then came time for the pap smear, and I definitely don’t plan on getting into a ton of detail.
First and foremost, shout out to my doctor for literally talking to me the entire way through and semi-explaining what was happening. The doctor called the nurse back in to assist, and apparently, the doctor had the easy access she needed.
However, ease of access did not help with the pain. The actual process didn’t take long (and my unfortunate eyes saw the tool). If I had to describe the pain, it would be like a tiny knife stabbing your insides, and there’s an everlasting painful numb feeling afterwards, like something you would experience after serious injuries when the shock wears off. I don’t know if any of that makes sense, but I hope it does.
The doctor didn’t bat an eye at my grimacing and told me to meet her in her office when I was done getting dressed (definitely principal energy). Kid you not. I was jumping on the spot to deal with the soreness of my south. Putting my pants on felt like an incredibly challenging sport. I wasn’t to the point of tears, but I definitely wanted the body part to be removed.
I was done done.
When I met the doctor in her office, we both laughed about me still being a state of pain. Well, I laughed to cope, and she laughed at the face I was making when she talked about scraping my insides.
We went over birth control options in greater detail, especially their side effects, and we settled on me starting off with the pill; though, I do think I want to eventually switch to getting the shot in my rear.
She put in the order for my BC, we had a brief discussion on interior design, and I waddled (yes, wide-leg waddled because I was so sore) out of the office.
Not gonna lie… I felt pretty brave afterwards.