Last week, I went into Manhattan and walked up four flights of stairs to a busy ob-gyn office. My feet dragged — who wants to get a pap smear? — but I dutifully signed in, filled out the forms, and headed to the examination room.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and a physician assistant introduced herself. I expected her to tell me to lie back so we could get down to business, but instead, she asked me, gently, “Would you prefer to start with the breast exam or the pelvic exam?” Pleasantly surprised to have the choice, I went with the breast exam. As I put each arm above my head, she explained that she was checking for lumps or skin abnormalities and gave me advice about how to do the same at home in the shower. Next, we moved to the pelvic exam. “First, I’m going to put two gloved fingers into your vagina and then I’ll press down from the outside. I’m feeling for the size and shape of your uterus and ovaries…” Throughout the exam, she explained every move she made, how things might feel, what she was watching out for, and what she was seeing.
Honestly, I was amazed. I realized during the exam that it was the first time a gynecology practitioner had truly walked me step-by-step through what was happening. And I’m 47 and have birthed two children! I’ve always trusted my doctors and nurses, of course, but during every annual gynecological appointment, I would just “lie back and think of England,” as the saying goes, with fingers and specula put inside me and a fluorescent ceiling light shining into my eyes. This was the first time an appointment had unfolded with such warm kindness and direct communication. In my blue cotton robe, and nothing else, lying vulnerably with my legs spread, I felt deeply respected and completely safe.
So, thank you to the wonderful physical assistant who, during her busy day in downtown Manhattan, takes care to treat each patient as a whole person. I’m especially glad for all the teenage girls and young women who will meet with her through the years. What a beautiful example she’s giving to them about how people can and should treat you and your body. xoxo
On a similar note, this made me laugh: “I have a friend who is an OB nurse practitioner,” commented Katie on Big Salad. “She just got a vanity plate that says SCOOTDOWN, and it is delightful.”
Thoughts? Do you have love notes for people who have cared for you? Do any readers have careers in the medical field?
P.S. 11 pressing questions for an ob-gyn, five ways to teach kids about consent, and why I regularly talk about periods to my sons.
(Top photo by Sergey Melnikov/Stocksy.)
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