I had my annual OB/GYN exam last month in the flurry of “appointments before school gets out.” I really like my doctor, he was there when I went in to labor with Emma Clare, and he delivered Turner. He has the greatest bedside manner. He’s a runner, so we’ve talked barefoot running versus cushiony shoes. He was the first one to hear I had breast cancer– my surgeon found out when she was at a conference and was hoping that he could give me the news in person as he was seeing me that day. (Only I had already seen him when she called.) When I called his office a week later to see if I could get out of a routine post-op appointment to check that my teeny incision since I was immersed in cancer related doctor visits, he called me back right away. Of course I could skip the appointment, and he spoke to me with such compassion about my diagnosis, making sure I’d been able to secure all the appointments I needed and that I was in the care of the best physicians.
As she and I were trying to squeeze in one last “the kids are still in school” outing, I was telling Sally I had the appointment and called him my OB. He was there when I had my babies, so that’s how I think of him. She pointed out that I am not pregnant, nor do I plan to be, and so I should start calling him my gyno. ??? Besides the fact that it makes me feel old, that is such an icky word. Gyno. Ick. And this from a woman who cringes every time I say the word “moist.” Not that I would ever say “moist” in her presence just for fun. And I would certainly never do it over and over again.
Anyway, this year when I headed into his office, he did the same exam as always, but he stopped when he got to the breast exam. “Wow,” he said. He asked about my plastic surgeon. “He did a really great job. I mean, I don’t want to be weird, but wow.” Kind of makes a gal feel good when a doctor who sees a lot of, uh, women in my situation, can be so complimentary. (You didn’t think I was going to say “women in my situation,” did you?) He told me how happy it made him to see me looking so great– having come out on the other side of breast cancer so well. I told him I might just need him to follow me around to say nice things. And babies or not, I’m not calling him my gyno.
Run Lipstick Chemo 