I realize this story starts off at a really weird beginning. Imagine the first thoughts of writing a book about a visit to a health clinic! There is something about those tables in the doctor's offices that I dread. Especially putting your private parts out there for a stranger, especially a man to poke and prod. I seem to never be able to scoot far enough down on the table. Then they ask you to put your feet in the stirrups and the paper sheet rips wide open as you try and get your 87 pound overweight body in a position that makes you feel more sexy than sickening to me anyway?
To make matters even worse they have to ask you the questions you dread. When was your last period? When was the last time you had sex? Is there a possibility you might be pregnant? "Lord, I hope not! I haven't had a period in two years, but on second thought maybe that's why I'm 87 pounds overweight. Maybe there are one or maybe eight babies in there! I chuckle to myself and the doctor says, "You are a student huh? I know he is thinking you are a little old to be going to school, but instead he asks me, "What are you studying?" I quietly tell him Religion with a minor in Counseling. He chuckles right out loud and says, "I didn't know they went together." I'm at a loss for words, but I'm thinking Biblical Counseling. I'm in trouble now, he probably hates Christians.
The exam continues on my breasts. Do you check your breasts? How often? I lie and I know he knows it so I lie there belittled, submitted to what is about to come. They do now have this cute little new gadget which takes your pap smear before you even realize it. I think this was the most refreshing part of the visit.
It's not like the old days where they have the silver shoe horn looking thing that pries you open as if your not open enough at my age. "Back in the day" they took a foot long Qtip and then inserted it until you could actually feel it in your throat and ears. One swipe, no they always take two, just in case. It's amazing you get three things done at once, smear, throat cleared and ears cleaned!
I'm still agitated about the table, the torn tissue and the trap I feel like I'm in. Never before in my life have I ever had to get a pap smear at a public health clinic. Along with taking my blood a couple of months before, they gave me an HIV test to see if I had been "infected." "O Lord, I prayed please don't let this be my case. I don't think my kids could take it. What the heck? I don't think I can take anymore! Lord, I'm really trying to be a submitted woman, it is just so hard. Please forgive me, please help me!" Now my mind is racing and circling all of my past, present and future sins. I remember all the times the preacher preached about the role of men and women. As far as I'm concerned it is all a big conspiracy theory to control me. Now I am really repenting. "God help me I am so disobedient! I am truly an undone soul."
Now I am retracing my life. When did I become such a disobedient child? I remember now! It all makes sense. "Thank you, God!" I can receive healing now and you can finally deliver me from this curse of non-submission!"
My first disobedient act begins at when I was a little girl. I believe I was around two. "If I had only realized how this event would change my life forever!" My mom, dad, older brother and I had arrived home after dark and my mother had just taken off my overalls and was undressing my older brother. I still remember the spot where she took them off. It became my bedroom growing up in a quaint little town in Central Florida. My parents owned an open air fruit and vegetable market. My brother was of course the cute one. I learned to laugh and smile from him. I remember his little head almost shaved but he had a couple of neat cowlicks right in front that made him look like a cowboy. Oops! Back to the story. I remember thinking my mom is busy, my dad was in the kitchen and the stroller was in their room right next to the dresser where my mom always kept the yummy orange aspirins. "How do I remember this?" Your brain always remembers the things that you know you are not supposed to do. It is called willful disobedience. I dealt with it in all of my children. They want to touch the things that are forbidden, just to see if they of all the people in the universe can get away with it!
All I had on was a diaper and I still remember taking off the cap. This was before "child proof" caps. Now that I am older I'm finding out the children can get in them, but us older adults have to ask the children to open them. Go figure. As I quietly emptied the bottle I remember my mom screaming and yelling at me and I almost fell off the stroller. She hollered for my dad as they scooped up my brother and me and put us back into the car and rushed to the hospital emergency room. At first I felt so much excitement at all of the attention. My excitement soon turned to terror as they put me on this cold metal table and I looked up and all I could see were people in masks and bright lights. I had my first "near death experience" or so I thought!
A very sharp voice chastened me as he put a plastic tube down my throat, "I bet you won't do this again!" Looking back now, I know I didn't have an out of body experience because it felt like I could feel that tube all the way to my vagina. Even though I didn't even know what a vagina was at the time, it still felt like that tube was coming out down there.
I believe this probably was the beginning of my trust issues, especially with men.
"You can get dressed now," suddenly jarred me back to reality. "I;ll be back in a moment to speak with you." I'm sitting on the table start to get up and the nurse says, "please wait till I leave the room." "Ok, I reply submissively." I'm thinking to myself, "why did I do this to myself?" I wad up the top with the torn paper sheet and put it on the table resisting the urge to clean and redress the table myself. They would want to do their job, you don't have to do everything for everyone. I'm a "pleaser," "fixer," "doer" if you haven't gathered that already!
I'm coaching myself that this doctor was really quite pleasant and I don't have to express, show an attitude with him. I'm telling myself just to be kind. "It only takes a second to be kind." This was a phrase my twenty-six year old would say (when he was six) whenever someone would get an obvious attitude.
The doctor comes in, looks at my chart and asks me, "How much would you like to weigh?" I'm startled but calm, laugh, smile and answer, "One hundred forty-five." "Oh, really," he replies. "Yes, really but this is probably a fantasy. What should I weigh?" He looks down at the BMI chart in his notes and says politely, "For height and body build, one hundred fifteen." I gasp! He doesn't give me a chance to respond and asks me, "What are you doing for exercise?" "Water aerobics, when I can," I answer. "Don't expect to lose any weight without changing your eating habits, you can run a mile uphill and only burn 100 calories." I gasp again! "That is one low calorie fudge pop," I scream in my mind! Out loud I reply, "I can't walk a mile much less run a mile."
"You could if you weren't overweight," he said very sweetly. Inside I'm thinking to myself, I can't believe I'm not getting defensive, angry or retaliatory. I actually found myself submitting to this doctor's comments on my obesity. "Your blood work is perfect, your blood pressure is great, your numbness on your right side is your extra weight pressing against the nerves in your body. No wonder they go to sleep when you are laying on them. Imagine carrying around a 70 pound bag of sugar? If you get the weight off you will "feel" like running up a hill."
He begins a session on how to eat only one fist size portion of food three times per day. "When you get hungry in between meals, drink 32 ounces of water and don't eat at night. You will lose a pound a week and in a year you will feel and look like you want to," he explained. "You didn't get this way overnight be patient with yourself."
I was in a daze! I didn't know submission could be so encouraging and enlightening. I left feeling good about myself, a little whacked out and amazed that the two "S" words (submission and stress) were actually meant to be opposites. I walked to check out and looked at the receptionist and said, "The doctor thinks I should be at "115"!
"That's crazy, those BMI charts are ancient. "So am I," I replied. "But, I'm going to give it a shot if it is one of the last things I do." The woman asked me if I had any money for her and I quickly told her no, I've just relocated her due to a domestic battery case. "Ok then," she said. "You are free to go." My head suddenly clear thought, "Yes, I am free, free to go anywhere the good Lord leads."
Putting the OBGYN table behind me, like Elvis "I left the building" determined that I could do all things even submit through Christ who gives me the strength to do so. I hadn't felt so good in a long time.
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