Monday, July 2, 2012

you're already invading my privacy anyway.

THIS POST IS A GROSS INVASION OF MY PRIVACY!

which is cool. because i'm writing it. and i can invade my own privacy if i want.

the question is, do you want to invade my privacy with me.

i feel like you do. this is blog about my life, and you're reading it, so you're reading about my life and what i have to say about it, so you're already invading my privacy anyway.

might as well keep going.

today was the day! today was the day that i got a trans-vaginal ultrasound! oh boy oh boy oh boy!

i'd been mentally preparing myself for a week. mostly just telling myself in the shower emily, it's gonna be okay. it's gonna be okay.


if you don't know what a trans-vaginal ultrasound is, i'm not going to tell you. now you have to keep reading to find out!

i'm so clever.

anyway.

i'm fretting at work this morning. i've been fretting for a week. when i leave work half an hour early and drive home to shower and become a presentable person (no showering before work. ever.) i'm freaking out. i need a full bladder so they can tell my bladder apart from my uterus.

because i guess that people can get confused.

so i'm chugging a grape-raspberry vitamin water zero because i don't like actual water. i only drink it when i exercise, or go out to eat, because it's free. you'll never catch me lounging with a glass of water. water has a taste, kids. and i don't like it.

i'm supposed to walk to the hospital. after all, it's literally like... a quarter mile from my house. i can see it from my bedroom window. but i'm too nervous, and now i'm full of vitamin water pee. so i drive over and it takes me about two minutes, tops. i walk in through the hospital entrance doors and i announce loudly and boldly that i'm emily, i have a pelvic exam at ten fifteen, and i'm ready.

i'm not. i'm not. not really.

i'm led to a waiting room where i commence to read about odd thomas and the love of his life eating churros in a parking lot. they're oddly proposing to one another (no pun intended) and odd can't figure out if stormy is saying yes. he's delighted to find out that she has, because they're abstinent and he can't wait much longer.

i know how odd feels. abstinence. it can suck.

so i'm reading about this and i'm just thinking about what my mother told me. she's away at church camp and can't hold my hand.

emily, they're going to stick a cold wand up there. it won't be that bad. it gets easier after having sex and having children because your tube widens.

thanks, mom. i've never had sex.

and i've certainly not given birth to a live, screaming baby.

i'm called back into a teeny receptionist area. i present my insurance card and my driver's license. the receptionist asks me if i have a living will.

good god.


i go back outside to reading about odd thomas. he makes me happy. i should invest in his other three books.

then this nice ultrasound tech named leah takes me away to the radiology wing of the hospital. normally i'm there for spinal x-rays. not to get wands shoved up my vagina.

so now i'm lying on my back on this bed and she's asking me how irregular and weird my periods are. then she squirts some hot ultrasound jelly on my stomach and starts pressing her magic ultrasound marker all over me. pressing hard.

my bladder is full.

i once held my pee for thirteen hours. i can handle this. i got this on lock.

i'm thinking about all kinds of things while she's playing pictures with my reproductive system. the first is juno, and how i'm very happy that there's not a baby on the screen. then i'm thinking about how i definitely know that i'm going to blog about this.

it's just one of those things you blog about.

when she's done, she gives me a towel and i try to mop up the goop with it, but i still get a little bit on my shorts. then she hands me a sheet, tells me to pee for as long as i can because my bladder is exceptionally full (two vitamin waters in fifteen minutes.) and she wants all of my pee out. then i can cover myself in this sheet and come back and it's time for the nasty part.

so i go into this teeny lit bathroom. and i sit down and pee. and on the pretext of trying to squeeze out alllll of my pee, i start pooping.

this is way more information than you want to know, but i'm not even to the trans-vaginal part of my story, so suck it up.

the only thing i'm thinking while i'm dropping turds into this toilet is olan rogers.


it is indeed a monday. and olan rogers is indeed talking about pooping. in a target bathroom.

so i finish my pooping. and i'm giggling because in my head olan rogers is going, "IF YOU JUST DO ME THIS SOLID, I WILL PRESENT YOU WITH MORE SOLID."

so i come back out with this sheet wrapped around me and i set my stuff by my purse and leah is telling me to lay back and put my feet up in these stirrups.

i'm becoming a woman.

then she pulls out the ultrasound wand and i want to run away.

this is honestly the first thing i think: if my husband's dick is ever that big, i swear to god i am never ever ever EVER having sex.

it was big.

leah explains to me that the ultrasound jelly is warm and it should be fine. it's barely going to be inserted, and for my own privacy, i get to insert it. just like a tampon.

the biggest tampon i've ever seen in my life.

literally, the thing is so big i have to ask if her if it's even in my vagina or not while i'm inserting it.

so she grabs the handle of this huge vagina wand and starts moving it around. she's not looking at my vagina, which makes me feel better, because my vagina is my vagina and not really her business. she's looking at the ultrasound screen, which i can't see, what with my legs all up in stirrups like i'm about to have a baby.

she tells me that my bladder is full.

and i'm like, excuse me, i just peed the clearest pee ever like, two minutes ago.

about three minutes into my vaginal probing, she hands me a towel and tells me that i have to pee again. i'll let you guess what i had to do with the towel.

so i'm peeing again. and during those two minutes that leah was probing in my vagina, my bladder has completely refilled itself. i took that whole "have a full bladder ready" requirement seriously.

it turns out that my little pee break is a blessing. i slid that vagina wand back into my vagina, leah grabs onto it, and then she's no longer just like, moving it around. it feels like she's probing.

"just a little pressure on the left side."

not much pressure.

"and some pressure on the right side."

not much pressure.

and then it feels like this magical vagina wand suddenly got a claw and it's sunk its teeth into the innards of my vagina and it's tugging at them. it stings. it burns.

my thoughts: i have a low pain tolerance. but i can tolerate this. i already got the wand in my vagina, i'll be fine. just grit your teeth and play with your ring. think about how you're going to blog about this. NO. SCREW THIS. THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BURN.

me: um. this hurts a lot.

she switches the magic vagina wand's position. not much better.

i tolerate it for another two minutes. then i tell leah that i'm extremely uncomfortable. i don't tell her that i want my mother.

leah pulls out. we're done here. she hands me another towel. i retreat to the bathroom and feel violated.

on the way out, leah smiles at me and tells me to have a nice day. i walk out the main entrance and the security guard tells me the same thing. i walk to my car and turn it on. roll down the windows. drive home.

forty-five minutes. that was it.

when i get home, i don't know how my vagina is feeling. so i do the only sensible thing.

i eat some licorice. i pee again. because my bladder is still silently refilling itself.

then i take a well deserved nap.

then i ponder how my dad can poke me on facebook when he's at summer camp with my mom. did he secretly take his laptop?

after all this time, has my summer camp had wifi?

this is serious. very serious. if i'd had wifi at summer camp, i could've started my blogging career far before my sophomore year of college.

anyway.

how does one end a blog post about a trans-vaginal ultrasound?

by leaving you a handy chart for if you ever get married and releasing bubbles doesn't cut it for you.




please. someone release the kraken at my wedding. please.


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