Disclaimer: If you’re of a nervous disposition and/or related to me in any way, you should probably give this one a miss. Just saying.
It’s always a bit nerve-wracking seeing a new doctor, isn’t it? A good GP isn’t just someone who writes out your prescriptions, it’s someone you have to really trust. A good GP needs to be someone you’re comfortable to have see you at your weakest and most vulnerable – someone who, over time, gets to know all the foibles of your little family.
After we moved, finding a new family doctor was the one thing that I kept pushing to the bottom of the to-do list. But six months into Tasmanian life, when everything else on the list had been ticked off, I finally had to get on and do it.
To save time, I made a double appointment. We could zip through the list of things DorkySon needed – vaccinations, allergy testing, height and weight – and then zip through mine – a couple of prescriptions and a referral for some blood tests – and be out of there in a single trip.
It went really well. The doctor was very nice. A mother herself, she had a very sweet manner with DorkySon, and the fifteen minutes passed without tears or drama.
But as I was backing out the door, she suddenly narrowed her eyes at me.
‘When was the last time you had a pap smear?’
I squirmed.
‘Erm. I’m not really sure. Three years ago? I think. Maybe four? I’m sure I’ve had one since DorkySon was born. Sure-ish.’
‘Let’s do one,’ she said.
‘What, now?’ I asked, unable to keep the horror out of my voice. I glanced down at the small person tugging on the back of my jacket. DorkySon had been very good, but his patience was starting to wear a little thin.
‘Yes, now.’
I was a little taken aback. In the UK, GPs don’t do pap smears – you have to make a separate nurse’s appointment for them instead. And as far as I know, it’s not usually a spectator sport.
I glanced at DorkySon again.
‘He’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll close the curtain and we’ll get it done nice and quickly.’
So I pulled out a few emergency toys to keep DorkySon entertained, and slunk over to the bed, whisking the curtain closed behind me.
A few minutes later there I am, lying back on the bed, naked from the waist down. Heels together, knees apart, you know the score. Nice doctor is having a good rummage around trying to find the relevant lady part. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Gosh, I do so love being a woman…
Suddenly I hear the curtain rustling.
‘Hello Mummy!’
DorkySon’s little face grins up at me from floor level.
Ahhh, crap.
I try to keep my voice light.
‘Hello sweetie. What are you doing down there?’
‘I’m being a ninja Mummy. Look! I can crawl all the way under the curtain!’
DorkySon continues to wiggle his way towards me.
‘Just wait outside, there’s a good boy. There’s not really room for everyone in here.’
The nice doctor glances up. ‘Just relax for me a little can you?’
I make a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a snarl.
‘Mummy I’m going to get up on the bed with you. Move over a bit.’
‘No, you really can’t sweetie. There’s not room up here, look. We’re nearly done. Why don’t you go and see if the iPad is in my bag?’
I fear there’s a little hint of desperation entering my voice now.
Nice doctor, obviously still struggling to locate the necessary lady part, adjusts the light and cranks the speculum open a little further, drawing DorkySon’s attention to the other end of the bed.
‘Ooh Mummy, what’s that noise? What’s the big light for? Can I have a look?’
I can feel a genuine sense of panic rising in my chest.
‘Probably best not to, love. Here, if you want to stay why don’t you hold my hand and help me be brave instead.’
‘No, that’s okay Mummy. I know you’re brave anyway. I want to see what the —’
‘AHA!’ shouts nice doctor suddenly. ‘Got it!’
‘Got what? What’s she doing Mummy? Are you okay? Why are your trousers and shoes on the floor?’
I squeeze DorkySon’s hand, and give him a look, which I hope is more reassuring smile than post-pap grimace.
‘No worries buddy. It was just a little test. We’re done now. I’ll pop them back on again.’
***
Later that night, it is bath time, and I overhear DorkySon chatting away to DorkyDad.
‘I had to have an injection today. Mummy had to have one too. But the odd thing is she had to take her pants off to have hers, and the doctor closed the curtain so she didn’t get embarrassed about people seeing her bottom. Isn’t that funny, Daddy?’
Indeed it is, DorkySon.
Frickin’ hilarious.
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 
Oh dear – I really shouldn’t have decided to read this post as a quiet break from work. In the middle of my office. Where I now have tears streaming down my face with laughter. BTW I’ve been putting mine off until I can sometime, somehow have an appointment where I don’t have to bring my son for this very reason.
Oh the joys! (I’ve avoided mine too… even when confronted my the doctor. whoops)
I possibly shouldn’t have laughed out loud reading this post! Definitely don’t think I would have stayed as calm as you!
Oh my goodness I could so feel your pain there, what a nightmare!! Quite funny though too and I’m sure you can look back and laugh ..maybe?
AAARRGGH! That is a hilarious (sorry) but hideous post! What a nightmare, well worth sharing. I was pre-warned, and so had my two firmly strapped into the double buggy for mine – really glad I did now. 😉
Oh dear! The joys of motherhood! I can only wonder what was going through dorky dads mind at the description!
“Frickin’ hilarious.” Sorry, but it was. So well written. Thanks.
What a great story. We all hate having smears but added stress with a little spectator.
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Bahahahhahahaaaaa! I mean, oh dear 😉 x
*snorts* So Sorry. I was wincing for you but couldn’t help it! *puts on serious voice* But it was very important that you had it done and I think it’s a good reflection on your new GP! Will send you my post about a gynae trip a couple of years ago to make you feel better X
Oh no, how awful *sniggers* (sorry, couldn’t help it!)
I feel for you, I really do… (But I did laugh!!)….. Here they do one every year, and everyone is so blase about it (apart from me). One friend went and the doctor had to leave the room for something and left the door open leaving her nether regions facing the waiting room. I am not joking!! 😀
OH MY GOD!!!!!! This story, to me, sums up motherhood. Where you can’t even have a frickin’ smear in peace! Well done for keeping your cool!
Oh good Lord. That would be a source for never-ending questions. I’ve found myself explaining way more than I ever thought I would by the five year mark just to end. the. questions. The upside? We can now avoid the awkward conversations later when we’d all be embarassed. Ha! Loved the post.
Oh my goodness. There’s no way I could have one ‘unprepared’! And certainly not with a small person around.
So funny. Sorry. Hopefully you’re laughing now! x
Not just the little person in the room, but the repercussions too, but then they made me laugh, and it made a really great post – well done on LOADS of levels!
Eeek without any warning? On the one hand it’s good so you don’t worry for weeks to come, but I’m with Liz, I couldn’t have done it without any ehm “preparation”…
I’d need my prep time as well. But I reckon if you can get through that, you can get through almost anything… 😀
Oh Em Gee!! There are no words!
Oh you poor thing… I was wincing reading that, it’s just something you don’t want the little one seeing! X …. many sympathies!
glad you rescued the can i have a look mummy! 🙂
Hate to laugh at your moment of vunerablity but that is hilarious. I have been there except my son wasn’t nearly so eloquent…
Oh brilliant! Sorry 🙂 The spontaneity of this would have freaked me out! I spend a morning prepping before my smears. The nurse gets the full shaved legs & posh moisturiser treatment. Love Dorky Son x
I am so sorry I am laughing so hard… 🙂 On the serious side, I am glad you had the test even though I haven’t the foggiest idea what lady part she was seeking!
I shuddered for you, and might just ask my mum to take my toddler when I have mine next week otherwise I may repeat this