First I'd like to make a disclaimer. Tony C Today seems to push the envelope which is a shock to my New England Puritan roots. I couldn't find the post in which he had a photo of the female reproductive tract - it was over the top. Today I am going to follow his lead as a more experienced Christian than I. If today's post offends your Christian sensibilities, please be sure to place part of the blame on him for leading me down this wayward path.
I posted briefly on dignity a week or so ago, and the situation has only gotten worse. As a conservative, puritanical New Englander, we don't talk about anything that has to do with a person's private parts, unless said person is well into the ale at an Irish Pub. Whereafter, no one remembers what was said. The lifeguards even make the foreigners in Speedos use the nude beaches. On missions trips to Brazil and Norway, what is seen on billboards, and television make Janet Jackson' half-time wardrobe malfunction look like a skit from Sesame Street. I had to cover my eyes.
I suppose the rest of this post will probably be more meaningful to the male readers who have had to cough for the doctor since they were 5-years-old. For the females, you can take a moment to join us in the feeling of utter embarrassment we men are subjected to in the health care system.
My mother used to say, "be sure to wear clean underwear, you never know when you'll get in an accident and have to go to the hospital." In the midst of having a heart attack, I made sure to change up. Like a teenager on their first date, I needed to decide on what color and style I should be seen in. Then again, I was having chest pains, and wasn't all that sure they were going to look "down there." I chose the ones in the top of the drawer.
Off to surgery I went, and even under the influence of fentanyl, it mattered what was going on below my naked waistline. Part of it is a little foggy, but when I awoke, I discovered they had in fact shaved me and it wasn't a dream. There next to my bed my nice clean underwear were neatly folded like Jesus' grave clothes along with my glasses and cell phone. My puritanical soul had been possessed.
For five days I tried to hold onto my dignity, but the problem was the dressing on the surgery had to be changed. You know, I think it would be a great idea if the cardio catheterization police used something other than the femoral artery - at least here in New England. I'm just saying.
You would think that after a week of being subjected to periodic inspections, I would deserve a long vacation from the underwear assaults. But no, I had to get an infection - yeah - I can't even bring myself to describe the location using medical terms. Though I'm more comfortable with the slang terms, I will refrain from using them as well. If I were to take Tony's lead, I would have to post a urogenital diagram, for which I only found one for a female hamster, which won't work. It might scare the children who read this blog from ever wanting a small pet.
The physical exam is embarrassing enough, and it doesn't matter what the doctor looks like, or their tone of voice, there is just no comfort in having someone look. What I can says is this: If you thought full-body scanners at the airport were intrusive, you should thank your lucky stars you haven't had to receive an ultrasound of said body parts.
To use an old saw, "it's time to take the bull by the horns." We need to add an amendment to the health care bill. You must write your representatives demanding a bill to force health care workers to HEAT UP the DANG ULTRASOUND GEL! I guarantee you that it makes your navel pucker!