OK, I don't know if I let on how terribly anxious I was about today's OB/GYN visit. Well, I was. But it turned out okay down there, yet led to an intense line of questioning about what's going on up in my head that is leading to all of these woes. I spent more time answering questions than with my feet in the potholders, and strangely enough I felt more comfortable with her poking around my cervix than poking around in my head.
Questions like these I am okay with:
Are you sexually active?
Do you smoke?
How do you like New York?
Questions like these make me very uncomfortable:
How long have you been smoking?
How much do you drink?
Questions like these make me uncomfortable and concerned:
Have you ever injured yourself or others due to your drinking?
Have you ever tried to quit smoking?
So...you drink every day?
Are you concerned with the amount you drink?
When I remarked that it had been a very thorough questionaire, she said, "Well, I like to get to know more than just your breasts and vagina." Wow, I bet there are so many women who would long to hear that from someone about to stick something in there. Maybe that's the gynecological equivalent to foreplay.
She asked me if I'd ever been pregnant, sexually assaulted (in such a PC, roundabout way that I almost didn't understand the question), and if I wanted help managing my high-risk behavior. I accepted a referral for my insomnia problems, explaining that insomnia, more than alcohol, has prevented me from accomplishing everyday activities. The only thing she didn't ask me about was drugs.
So, I have been going pretty hard for the past two months now, but I don't really see an end to it any time soon. Let's face it; it's summer. This sun, after so much greyness and misery, is literally making me crazy. I don't know how I'm going to handle 22 hours of daylight in Alaska. Back when I made these plans, nothing could sound better than constant sunshine. But really, all that happy may damn well kill me.