Yearly physicals, what fun!

Well, it finally happened! My husband's first prostate exam!

After 20+ years of my own personal degradation and humiliation at the gynocologist's office, I finally get to see him endure the mortifying embarassment that accompanies the necessary, but all too unpleasant, intimate physical exam.

(If it's any consolation to you , honey, the doctor seemed to enjoy it even less than you did.)
The look on that woman's face was priceless. I think that must have been the "sometimes-I wish-I'd become-an-accountant-look". Oh well, that's why they pay her the big bucks, I guess.

So he finally had a small glimpse into what we women have to endure. A VERY SMALL glimse.
I mean, really, what is the "butt-finger" compared to what women have to go through anually at the Gyno's office.

Every year we muster up our courage and traipse down to the office for our annual exam.
We tell ourselves that it won't be that bad, but after sitting in the( appropriately named) "waiting room" for about an hour waiting to be called back, what started out as an uneasy feeling has mutated into full-blown anxiety.

Then your name is called and you get to go back to the exam room where you have to wait another hour, but this time with no magazines, and in a paper dress!

When the doc finally does arrive that's when the real "fun" begins. First comes the breast exam. I'm an old fashioned girl. I usually don't let someone feel me up until they've at least bought me dinner, but I make an exception in this case.
So there I am on the table, arms over my head, getting my boobs pinched and poked. Can you imagine a more vulnerable position? If not, just let me tell you about what comes next.

Next is the pelvic exam. First you have to lay on the exam table, spread eagle with your feet up in stirrups. Then you're told to "slide your butt down." As if you're not uncomfortable enough, now your butt is hanging off the end of the table and a spot light is being shined on your vagina.
Then the doc slathers his latex-gloved hands with KY jelly that seems to have been stored in the freezer. "This may feel a little cold." seems to be the standard line at that point. But the use of the word "little", in this case is like saying that politicians are a "little" dishonest.

Then comes the speculums. If you aren't familiar with this device, it is a metal tool used by the gynocologist to hold open the vagina during the exam, which apparently is stored in the freezer next to the KY jelly. It is unceremoniously inserted and cranked open like the sun roof of a 1979 Volkswagen, so that the doc can proceed to scrape cells from the cervix. Yes, I said scrape cells! I know this is necessary to diagnose cervical abnormalities that might be pre-cancerous in nature, but you sure never hear about a doctor scraping anything off of any MAN!

And heaven help you if you have such an exam in a "learning hospital". It's bad enough with the doctor and nurse in the room. A couple of interns asking questions about you like you're some science project, instead of a human being, really does very little to instill confidence and promote relaxation. And GOD-forbid the exam should show anything unusual in such a place. The next thing you know interns from all over the building will be lining up to look at the woman who's episiotomy scar is shaped like the Eiffel Tower. ( or whatever the case may be)

So, in my must humble opinion, men have it easy. What's a moment of anal angst compared to all THAT!