Such A Week........

Into each life there comes, once in a while, a week that brings to the forefront of your brain, and sometimes even to your lips, all the bad words you ever heard or knew. Vehement, explosive words that in certain circumstances, like such a week, are the only way to spell relief. They're not usually words that "nice girls" in my youth were encouraged to use. They often have only four letters, making them easy and satisfying to enunciate. I can still remember a day, when I was testing the waters [aged seven or eight,] and made the mistake of saying "damn" in front of my dad.....If we had some kind of cosmic warning system for such weeks, or days, the most prudent course of action would be to burrow deeper down into the covers, ignoring the sneaky light of dawn, insinuating itself through chinks it the window shades, and killing the alarm clock. Unfortunately we have not yet evolved to such a level.

And so we rise optimistically and face another day or week. This week was such a week. It began innocuously enough. I survived Monday unscathed. Sipping my coffee on Tuesday morning my eyes fell on the calender. Oh Jesu, joy of man's desiring...... I had completely forgotten. The dreaded yearly gynecological exam.

An hour later, coffeed, showered, glum and naked, we [me, my disgruntled self, and I] are sitting on the edge of the examining table, loosely covered in that most fetching of garments, the paper gown, waiting for the Physician’s Assistant. There is a small window high up on the wall of the examining room. Small, perhaps to discourage last minute escape attempts---but how far would we get in our paper gown and bare feet? A patch of blue sky and a section of palm-tree trunk are framed in the window. As we contemplate the texture of the trunk the door opens and the PA enters, wearing a cheery smile. And clothes. She is, thank you God for small mercies, female and familiar.

A little polite conversation ensues, and then, down to business.

“Put your feet here please,” instructs the nurse, as the PA dons her gloves and approaches the nether regions with her gleaming instruments. Obviously it would be inconvenient if we were to cheerfully announce at this point that we had changed our mind. Ta-ta.

“Please scoot down a bit,” says the PA. We dutifully scoot.

“A little more…” We move a fraction of an inch.

“A little bit more please.”

“Do you want us to fall over the edge?” Giggles from the nurse.

“You just need to bend your knees a little,” from the PA.

“I think her legs are too long,” Helpfully, from the nurse.

We never were good at plies, even when we were young and limber. Besides, they want us to do them upside down…..Don’t they know we hung up our ballet slippers a few decades ago, when our knees rusted over?

Inconvenient legs notwithstanding, they finally get us into The Position. And swab whatever they have to swab, while we clutch the sides of the table. And then the ordeal is over, we think. But no. With a “this won’t take a minute”, a digit is inserted where digits were never meant to go.

“There,” cheerfully, “you’re done for another year.”

We should be happy. We aren’t, but we manage a wan smile. The frontal assault was one thing. At least that was expected. But the other. The stealth attack---for these indignities we’re expected to pay??

Scarpered out of there and quickly home for a restorative cup of tea. Enough trauma for one day, you’d think.

But then.......