While some women prefer woman gynecologists, my main criteria for picking a doctor be that he/she isn't:
C. an asshole
While these may seem like reasonable expectations, 3 out of the 4 gynos I have used met one of the above mentioned traits.
I am all for casual conversation and for doctors trying to make their patients feel comfortable, but when I can feel your breath on my inner thighs as you are scraping off pieces of my cervix, it is a little awkward. To make matters worse, she referred to a certain part of my anatomy as "the butt hole".
The conversation went like this:
Dr: I'm going to take a look at your butt hole now.
Me: My butt hole?
Dr: Yes, your butt hole. You have a hemorrhoid.
Dr: Yes, I'm going to just push that dude back up into your butt hole.
Me: You're going to...Ouch!
Dr: There, all better. If you continue to have problems with hemorrhoids, you may want to see a butt hole doctor.
Me: A butt hole doctor?
Dr: I know some good butt hole doctors if you need a referral. There are two of them I have been friends with for a long time. If I ever needed a butt hole doctor, I would go to one of them.
Me: OK. Thanks, I think...
Even though her attention was on my butt hole during this time, I could still feel her breathing on my crotch, which made the whole situation even worse. Leaving her office, I vowed to never see a woman gynecologist again.
So when the time came for my next yearly exam, I inadvertently, chose a gorilla of a man with huge sausage fingers who had the finesse of a caveman. I tried to hint at my discomfort, but all I got was a grunt from him as he continued to palpate my abdomen while brutally trying to locate my uterus. Finally, I screamed at him, "I bet your girlfriend hates you!" His head popped up and he looked hurt, but I was more concerned for my now bruised cervix than his feelings so I didn't feel bad.
The next time, my search for the perfect or at least normal gynecologist, led me to the asshole. This guy had no bedside manner, did not say a word to me after quickly reviewing my medical information; not even the usual, "you're going to feel a little pressure here", or "this may be a little cold". He got down to business and then left the room without a word. His nurse gave me a small smile as she quickly followed him out and I was left staring up at the poster of a cat on the ceiling.
Which brings me to another point, why the stupid posters on the ceilings? Or the wind chimes? Is this supposed to make us women feel more comfortable? Here you go, look at this cute poster/wind chime/mosaic/whatever. I doubt he even likes animals. His nurse probably put it there.
At this point, you may be thinking, "Wow, she is really particular...she doesn't like gynos who talk too much, but give her one that doesn't talk at all and she acts all hurt and starts bitching about his ceiling art." You are right, ladies. I want that happy medium gynecologist. And thankfully at long last I have found her!
Her? Yes, I broke my vow and went back to a woman. I was experiencing some "period" problems and figured a woman would be better suited to helping me. I polled all of my friends on who their doctor was, read review after review on the internet and finally landed the doctor I have spent years searching for. She didn't talk solely to my cooter, have mammoth fingers, and the ceiling was free of cat posters. She never once said butt hole and didn't even flinch when I almost kneed her in the nose trying to get my feet in the stirrups.
After our first appointment, I got to experience the joys of a vaginal ultrasound to rule out fibroid cysts and this my friend, is a whole new ball game. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of a VU, let me break it down for you. The ultrasound "wand" looks pretty much like your average dildo, however it is used more like a joystick in a video game.
You are escorted into a room, encouraged to undress from the waist down and cover yourself with a paper sheet. As with any gynecological visit, you are in stirrups while this exam is performed. The dildo, I mean wand, is encased in a condom and after the lights are dimmed, a generous amount of K-Y is applied.
My tech then handed me the wand and instructed me to insert it and then politely turned her head. My first dilemma was do I lift my foot out of the stirrup and go under the leg for insertion or keep my feet in the stirrups and kind of lean up to improve the angle? I mean, I have never done this thing before. I guess it doesn't really matter as long as the end result is wand in cooter but still this weighed heavily on my mind. I finally settled on a cross between leaning up and going under the leg, but kept my foot in place. Which led me to dilemmas number two and three: How far does this thing need to go and am I taking too long? There the tech is giving me some degree of modesty while I try to decide how to get this thing inside me but I spent a good 30 seconds making that decision and now it is firmly in place but her head is still turned. How do I alert her that it is time to get the show on the road? And is it far enough in place? Can this get any more embarrassing?
While I was deep in thought, she glanced over her shoulder, saw we were good to go and took over her joy stick duties. Between the buttons clicking on her computer as she took pictures and the right, left, up, and down movements of the wand, I started to feel like she was playing Galaga with my vajayjay. The whole thing took less than 15 minutes, including the time it took me to fumble around my vagina weighing the pros and cons of insertion methods. Although the exam wasn't painful, it wasn't my idea of a good time. Maybe if I had been the one in control of the joystick, I haven't played Galaga in years...
The good news is, my doctor was able to get a good look at my uterus and give me a clean bill of health. Which IS my idea of a good time.
So I encourage you ladies, be diligent about your reproductive health even if you have to go through every doctor in your zipcode to find the right one. As far as vaginal ultrasounds and insertion methods, you might want to practice that one at home before the big day and if you find yourself suffering through an exam staring up at a freaky ass cat, just close your eyes and think of England.