Subtitle: Vaginal probes and other things sexual in the E.R.
Disclaimer: Today’s blogging installment is brought to you without Percocet. That may change by the end of this. 🙂
I figured, after the gory mess described in the previous entry, now I owe you some of my juicier exploits. 😉
In the process of begging the medical “professionals” to diagnose whatever ridiculous abdominal pain was incapacitating me, I was treated to two pelvic exams and a vaginal probe.
It was during the final exam when I was told how healthy my vagina is. The doctor was great — he knew I was pretty much over having KY-covered speculums thrust into my nether regions, so he decided to use his fingers. Whee! First it was, “Now I’m using one finger. Now I’m going to use two.Does that hurt?” I said, “Doc, this is the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me!” 🙂 He couldn’t stop laughing.
The vaginal probe was painful at first, but I took it like a trouper. It was actually a sonogram to get a picture of my ovaries and whatnot, but it was done with a double-dong and a vat of KY Jelly. I saw that probe and said, “Oh, I have one of those under my bed.” The nurse tried so hard not to snicker.
So she poked and poked with the prod, and finally, when she went to pull it out, I suppose my cock-starved crotch had decided that it wasn’t done yet. My muscles had gripped the wand very tightly, and she had to fight to get me to release it. Heh. I’m all drugged and my muscles are relaxed, but I still won’t let a good one get away.
The first pelvic exam I got was, um, anticlimactic. 🙂 I wasn’t expecting for there to be girly issues involved — and not like I had done anything to prepare for this visit but wash my ass anyway — but I told the doctor, “Sheesh. I would’ve at least groomed if I’d have known I’d be having visitors.” *snerk*
At any rate, there were the highlights of my visit — the ones that I won’t be in therapy for 20 years, trying to forget. 🙂 Enjoy!