Over the course of the last few years I’ve developed this irrational fear of going to see my doctor. I’m not sure how or why this developed. Perhaps it is simply a case of absence makes the heart grow fearful. There has been no compelling reason for me to make an appointment with her over the last four or so years, so I didn’t see a problem. I was able to get my asthma medications refilled, and even got another prescription by asking her via email. However, when I last requested a refill on my meds, it didn’t go through. Odd. But, then I got a message from my doctor to make an appointment. Oh, gonna play hardball, are we? Fine. I didn’t need to breathe anyway.
When I saw my resistance to seeing my doctor, I realized that I had grown fearful of her. I didn’t want to hear I was going to have to actually start exercising or increasing my vegetable intake. I didn’t want to see the evidence of my sedentary lifestyle. I didn’t want a lecture. But, I am also fond of breathing, so I called for an appointment.
The appointment was fine. My doctor is really a very nice woman and was very gentle with me. While I was there, she also scheduled a mammogram for me, as well as an appointment with dermatology to get some moles checked out. I knew I was also due for a pap smear, but I figured I’d take care of that later.
However, when I got home, there was a message on my voicemail from my gynecologist’s office encouraging me to come in for an appointment. The call came in at the very time I was sitting in my primary care doctor’s office. What a funny coincidence.
A week later I go for my mammogram appointment. While not horrible, there are a lot of other things I’d rather be doing, like eating gelato in Florence, Italy or cleaning the cat box. Again, I come home and there is a message from my gynecologist’s office recieved at precisely the same time as I was out having my boobs smushed between two cold plates. Weird. Very weird.
Now, it is starting to feel like my gynecologist is like some kind of jealous ex-boyfriend who leaves voicemail messages when they know you’re out with your new beau. I also remembered that she had sent me a couple of letters over the last few months saying she hadn’t seen me for a while, and to give her a call. Since I had no interest in seeing her, I simply threw those letters away. Now her tactics were escalating.
The other day in my mail I find I have two appointment reminder cards. Odd. I would expect one from the dermatologist, and indeed the first one I opened was reminding me of my appointment. What’s this second one? It’s from my damn gynecologist! Apparently, since I wouldn’t call her, she just made me an appointment anyway! Damn! Sure, I’m a year out of compliance for my pap smear, I know that. I’ll get around to it. But does she know something about my lady parts that I don’t? Good lord, I can’t remember the last time anyone has ever been so openly eager to see my naughty bits. I guess I should be flattered?
I have a month and half to decide whether I’m going to keep the appointment. I’ll probably just go and do it, lest my gynecologist shows up at my door with a pair of latex gloves, a speculum and a swab.