Okay. I am a little wigged out. Today, I happened to have the television on during the day. This isn't the norm for me. I am usually at work, for one thing, but it's summer, and I was folding clothes or something and so the TV was on. It was on a program called "Dr. Oz" or some such nonsense.
Now, don't go and tell me how awesome this "Dr." is. I don't give a rat's ass at this point. Why? Because he scared the living SHIT out of me. Here is what he did: He comes out in his scrubs as if he just came out of a life saving heart operation or something. He looks concerned. Very concerned. I think to myself, "Wow, dramatic much, dude?" I keep one eye and ear on the TV to see what Marcus Welby MD is going to cure today, and keep folding clothes. Well, it turns out the good DOCTOR is QUITE concerned about a problem that a full 50% of women have. A FULL FIFTY PERCENT OF US WOMEN HAVE THIS UNSPECIFIED, BUT HORRIBLE PROBLEM!! Aren't you the least bit panicked, yet? Well, you BETTER be. You damned well BETTER BE!!! The doctor sure as shit is. He informed me (and I was riveted to the TV now. I'm a stupid sucker.) that a FULL FIFTY PERCENT OF WOMEN TODAY (in case you didn't catch that earlier) have a problem where things are tumbling out of their...you knowwhat. Their hoo hoo. Their whatsit. Their "virginnies" as an old hillbilly lady called it.
Nothing has ever fallen out of mine. Nothing has ever tumbled, slid, slithered or fallen out. Well, unless you count two babies. But I certainly wouldn't characterize those situations as "sliding" or "tumbling". No. Not at all.
Anyhow. Back to the show. The doctor is going on and on about how women are too afraid and ashamed to even tell their doctors about this. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but my DOCTOR should NOTICE if something was in my VAGINA that shouldn't be there, right?
So far, the weirdest thing I've ever had happen to me during an exam was having the doctor mutter from underneath the sheet he had over my spread knees, "You been out in the bushes lately?"
Um...what the hell sort of question is that from anyone, let alone a gynecologist whilst he is probing around down there?
I replied, "What? Bushes? What? Huh? No! Why? Why did you ask me that?"
He sighed from beneath the sheet, I looked over at the nurse who was repeatedly patting my hand telling me to breathe (seriously? I'm not giving birth, I'm getting an exam..relax, nurse!) and the doctor's head popped up and looked at me. Much as a baby, when you think about it. However he said, "You have mosquito bites on your legs...I thought maybe you'd been out camping or something...you don't want to get lyme disease from ticks or anything..." then he sighed, he PRACTICALLY rolled his eyes and dove back down there. I thought I had twigs or something down there. I was traumatized.
So, that was the worst, besides have a human come out, which wasn't bad, it was miraculous and wonderful and the most pain I've ever been in in my whole entire life, and yes I remember ever single second of it. It was worth it. Yada yada. I figured if OTHER weird things were down there, a doctor would have told me. But no. Nothing. Everything normal. Until today. I panicked. Dr. Freakin' Oz tells me that there is a fifty-fifty chance that I have my uterus, bladder and rectum coming out of my virginnie.
I have a wonderful husband, thank God. I ran to him hollering to come watch this show. He came in, sat down and immediately got a very concerned look on his face.
"What?!!? What?!?!? Is there something wrong with me down there??? Have you felt something weird???" He shushed me because he was INTO what the doctor was saying. I was running around freaking out trying not to let my teenaged son know what was going on, and if you are one of my three teenaged children, close this window now and read no further, it will scar you for life. Similarly, if you are my parent or other relative, read no further! Trust me!
So, finally, I got my husband's attention during the commercial break. The visual demonstration the doctor provided sorta freaked him out, too. The doctor had constructed a large rectangular prism on it's end. It was bright red and covered with something like what balloons are made of...what...latex? Oh Jesus...like condoms...so yeah. It was very stretchy material. One side was labeled: "Bladder", the opposite side was labeled "Rectum", and the very top was labeled "Uterus". The big red thing? OH, that....that was just the VAGINA. He had a volunteer from the audience come up. (Who the HELL WOULD VOLUNTEER TO WALK UP TO THAT HUGE FAKE VAGINA???) He had her press against the side labeled "Bladder". "Keep pushing...go ahead..push through..." She did. She busted through the wall INTO THE FAKE VAGINA. Score! Wait. No. Bad. Not good. However, the audience clapped and got excited. What the hell? It wasn't over though. Then, he moved the hapless volunteer over to the "Rectum" side. Again, he urged her to push on through..push on through to the other side. Which she did. With gusto. yay! No. Not yay. Not good. The rectum does not belong in there. Since the doctor couldn't get her to climb on top of the big red fake vagina, he threw...get this...he threw..no..he LOBBED a BOWLING BALL on to the top. A handy camera mounted up there showed how the bowling ball created a HUGE BULGE into the fake red latex vagina. It looked as though it would be quite uncomfortable.
I was hysterical by this time. I asked my husband if he would mind checking things out....you know...down there. Being the good sport he is, he said, "Sure..lemme get the flashlight.." I stood there as he scurried off wondering how I had come to this point in my life. He came running back in with a HUGE HALOGEN flashlight. I think it is supposed to be used for car mechanics or something. Honestly. I felt like I should explain...I said, "You know, I don't LOOK down there...how weird would that be?" and he said, "Don't worry, I'll check it out...". So he did. Right there. He calmed me down, told me everything was fine. I still made an appointment with my Virginnie doctor. It's been awhile, after all. I thanked my husband profusely. I asked him if he was sure it was all A-OK down there..and he assured me it was. He then went back to whatever it was he had been doing before my meltdown.
Lessons learned: Don't watch Dr. Oz. Don't compare a vagina to a big red balloon. Have a good husband who will get out a big flashlight to check your hoo hoo and not jump your bones because he knows this isn't some weird assed come on. He recognizes true freak out mode when he sees it. He pats your knee afterward and gives you reassurance. Next week? Who the hell knows what he'll do? Anyhow, make your yearly appointment with your Gynecologist. Don't skip it. The repercussions could be catastrophic. You don't want your rectum or bladder or God forbid your uterus IN your vagina.
PS, If you are male, you may disregard all of the above. Unless you love a woman with a vagina. Then, encourage her to NOT watch Dr. Oz, and go get herself checked out.
You're welcome vaginas of the world. If you want more info, here is the link
http://www.doctoroz.com/blog/lauren-streicher-md/uterine-prolapse-risks-symptoms-and-treatment"
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