Dear Medical Assistant at my Doc’s office:
I got your message. Thanks for letting me know my test results. Since I’m getting
old older, I was actually a bit worried about this last scraping of my cervix. Well, the scraping of the half of a cervix that was left after my poor, tired, uterus was removed. The remaining half that was too mangled and twisted and wrapped around my bladder to be removed. That old thing.
Side note: I bet my uterus looked rad. It was probably all graffiti’ed up, there were probably bean bag chairs in the corner of it, Christmas lights strung throughout it. That’s what I bet the inside of that puppy looked like. Hendrix and Marley posters lined the walls of it. I just described my first dorm room, insinuating I gave birth to pot smoking college kids.
Yeah, this is what you said, and I quote, “Yes, this is So-and-So from Dr. So-and-So’s office, with your pap smear results. They initially came back abnormal, so we sent them for further testing, and they came back normal. So, we’ll see you next year. Thanks and have a good afternoon.”
So, bottom line, my mangled mess left over from my baby maker is normal. Normal, right? Couldn’t you just have left it at that? I’m getting
old older. I don’t need to hear shit like my shit was abnormal. Hearing shit like that, scares the shit outta me.
You made my ears start ringing and my head start pounding…and MY FUCKING HEART JUMPED UP INTO MY FUCKING THROAT FOR A SPLIT SECOND! Was it really necessary to deliver the new that way?
That was rhetorical. No. No, So, and So, it wasn’t. Next time, a simple, “Your test results came back normal,” will be fine, alright? Ya dig?
Thanks again, and I hope YOU have a great afternoon. You know, unless a medical assistant tells YOU that YOUR shit is abnormal!
Until next year, when I hop back in the stirrups again,