The Party in My Pants

Physically speaking, it's been less than a stellar week. I had some dental work done by a sadistic dentist and his henchman of a hygienist, which has given me a third lip.

Somehow, I can only assume during one of the many moments the hygienist was intending to suction spit, blood or water she applied the suction thingy (thingy being a the technical term - try to follow along) to the soft tissue on the inside of my top lip, and now I have a third lip.

It's a flap of swollen skin that hangs down below my top lip, and much like my belly, refuses to be tucked away anywhere less conspicuous. I suppose I should count myself as lucky considering how often she lost grip on the suction thingy and it slipped down the back of my throat, sucking the air from my lungs and causing my arms and legs to flail in the chair like I was trying to catch the attention of a passing aircraft for rescue. Had there been a skylight, I may well have tried. I was lucky to escape with just one extra lip and not the strangest cause for an obituary ever.

Next, I grew a third eye. I'm at an age where I worry about wrinkles and zits in equal amount, which hardly seems fair. One indignity or another should be plenty enough. I'm going to a party this evening where there will be a particular boy I would like to make out with. Nothing more - just make out.

If my third lip doesn't do it for him, the gigantic zit that has sprung up in the very narrow strip of real estate between my eyes should seal the deal. It has its own pulse, and I'm pretty sure that if I were to stand outside, it would be visible via Google Maps.

After these developments, what happened when I went to get a pap test done should have been no surprise. For either of my two readers who may get squeamish at the idea of a pap test - you're obviously reading the wrong blog.

I fired my family doctor long ago after I suffered through a fracture to my pelvis and subsequent nerve damage that he diagnosed as a mental illness and a figment of my imagination - the full story I wrote about in one of my earlier posts.

Not having a family doctor means I have to scrounge my regular maintenance sort of health care where I can. Last year, while I was looking for some sort of diagnosis for all of my pelvic issues, I had an appointment with a very nice doctor who worked out of a clinic for sexual health. They do pap tests, so thinking it's the pro-active thing to do, I booked an appointment at that same clinic for my regular check-up.

This is where everything stops being regular. The doctor I saw was very nice, took time to talk with me, and explained everything that was going to happen - unnecessary at this point in my life, but a nice touch. He then let me know that there would be two "assistants" in the room, both female, who would hand him things and help him out, and was I OK with that?

Well...sure. It seems to be a new policy for clinics that any goings-on with the lady-bits and a male doctor will have a clinic nurse present. I assumed this would be the same scenario.

Imagine my surprise when I'm lying there, staring at the ceiling and trying to pretend that me, my third lip and third eye were all somewhere else when two 19 year old girls wearing yoga pants and halter tops enter the room, laughing and joking, introduce themselves and come over to shake my hand like we're all meeting at a party.

The doctor then calls them to the end of the table where my legs are in a position that would usually mean I'm having a lot more fun, and tells them they should come have a look. Umm. Something had obviously gone awry, and was not about to get better.

With three people now huddled between my legs, one of the would-be yoga instructors says very loudly, "Oh wow!" Oh wow? Did I inadvertently grow a sixth lip? What exactly was going on at my surprise pap test party? The other girl answers with, "I know, right!"

Something was obviously called for, because these kinds of comments aren't really what you'd want to let slide as part of a gynecological exam. So I waved a hand toward the end of the table and asked the crowd gathered there what was so surprising, despite being suddenly afraid of what the answer might be.

Were there cobwebs? Bats? Teeth? A tent city for the homeless? I know it's been a little while since any major activity, but if eviction notices needed to be served I wanted to know immediately.

One of the girls piped up that she had no idea a pap test was actually a slide. Like, she had never thought about it before, and now she just saw it, and was like, so surprised. Like, it goes on a slide and it looks kind of bloody. Did I know that?

Why yes, yes I did know that. Both girls were impressed that I knew that, and it could have been a great bonding moment if I wasn't wondering just who in the hell these people were, and how were they qualified at all to stare at my cervix?

Once everything was declared as looking really good, the girls waved enthusiastically and wished me an awesome day before leaving while I got dressed. I used this opportunity alone with the doctor to ask him who those people were.

Apparently, the society that runs the clinic employs volunteers. Mostly nursing students or pre-med. All volunteers are vetted and screened, and they haven't had any problems. Well, except for once. That girl was crazy, but it really wasn't her fault, because she was legitimately crazy.

Of course. I felt so much less baffled, and disconcerted.

Me, my third lip and eye will still be rocking the party tonight, comforted by the fact it's just my face that's screwed up and my other end isn't actually anything to get excited about. Situation normal - I have several witnesses. If that doesn't make this guy want to make out with me, nothing will.