"Is there anything you're particularly concerned about today that you need the doctor to know?"
"Err...well, I guess I need the doctor to be aware that I have this birthmark on the outer area of a private part that I guess he should, ummm, really kinda know about." Private part? You're still 12 in the brain aren't you?
The nurse absentmindedly muttered, all the while typing viciously into her portable laptop "Really concerned about private part. Ok."
What is she typing? Is she facebooking the other nurses to report that I'm a big dork that can't bring myself to say the word? That I request my male dermatologist, who's exactly my age, whose kids go to my kids' school and whom I glimpse nearly every other day that I need him to look at my hoo-ha? "Well, no, not exactly, its just that, um, I mean, I have this mark down there and I know that if a mark appears not due to sun exposure it should be seen, so I mean, I don't know, I just said it to umm, give fair warning." Dork. You're warning the doctor via his nurse that he may have to look at your lady parts. Its not Hiroshima, for fuck's sake.
"OK, we've been warned." And with a bemused expression, she exits.
Doc enters, proffers a cheery greeting and quickly leans into me for a light kiss on my cheek.
Have I just arrived to a dinner party? I'm so confused.
We then proceed to talk about the usual things, this is a Doc that likes to know his patients: he's genuine and friendly, so we talk about the things that tie us - the mutual friends we have, the kids, the school, the work I do, the fact we both often pick up our kids... I do not know him really, but I know the universe in which he resides. Still, he's just my age, he's only my dermatologist and I'm basically all but naked except for bra and underwear and clutching this thin blue sheet, and
Shit, I forgot to take off my underwear.
"So, we're going to do a basic skin check today and I understand you have an...area that we have not looked at before that you need to have looked at."
I nod. Oh my...he's being as obtuse as I am.
We start out simple: arms, shoulders, back, now around the bra, now lower...finally
"So, now we need to look at one more thing, right?" Is that a faint drumroll in the background?
"Right, yes, I'm sorry."
"Oh, its certainly fine. Don't be sorry."
And suddenly I'm transported to the terrible skin check experience of 2006, where, a few months after my pregnancy a small mark appeared just below my left nipple. I shamefacedly admitted this when he asked there was anything that he needed to check that was covered by my bra....so I pulled it down to show him, prudently covering the offending nipple that bordered the mark when he said, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I need to see the whole nipple for a second." and I released it, and a second later, I was duly covered and we'd moved on, but this...I suddenly realize there's a pause in the room, and I'm back, folks....
"Right, yes, I'm not sorry per se, but you know, I mean, I just, I felt it was better to be...
"...safe than sorry. Yes, it is. Especially in areas not hit by sun exposure. Now, do you need another person in here while we do this?"
Is this a trick question? Do I NEED another person? If I say yes, is it a signal I don't trust him? If I say no, will the dark recess of his brain wonder if I'm a tart that just wants to flash him?
"Oh, no, its fine. It will just take a second." comes my confident reply. Faker. Exhibitionist tart.
"Well then...." he says gently. Steps back, waits.
"Oh, yes, right. Umm. I kept on my underwear. I don't know why. I just need to take them off. Wait one second. Sorry." Word vomit! Cease and desist!
I quickly stand up on the foot rest of the examining table and without looking at him I pull down my modest light blue bikini underwear that I donned specifically for this
"Well, um, so, just right here, on the left, its..." And I'm trying to cover up and reveal at the same time. And he's bending down and craning his neck and sort of holding up his index finger near the area in question, as if to trace an outline of it and then I realize, panicked, his fingers are bare. No! What?
Quickly he speaks, now Captain-Obvious-meets-Doctorly-Noises "Ahh, yes, right, I see, right, well, there it is, its got a slightly irregular shape, its...wait one second, I just want to measure this.."
Another lumpy second passes between us. He quickly measures, careful not to touch me, and then cranes his neck once more for a second look and pronounces it good. "You need to know that areas like this not exposed to sun need to be watched. And I think that we need to just do a check once year to make sure its not undergoing any changes." My face slides. I think he notices. "...or maybe once every other year" he amends further "...or if any changes take place."
He leaves, instructing me to dress, and gets me a sample he mentioned. I hurriedly dress, and he knocks earlier than I expect.
"Wait, just one second.." I pull quickly button my pants and pull my tshirt over my head. "You can come in now."
"Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry! I just didn't want to walk in on you too early. I didn't mean to... " he trails off, averting his eyes as I now adjust my sweater over my t-shirt.
Umm, not 2 minutes ago your face was about 5 inches from my oonie, so I'm not terribly concerned about me putting on a second shirt in front of you.
"Here's the samples, you should just put this on once a day and let me know if that doesn't improve the dry skin. It was great seeing you. Take care of yourself." Smiling, he leans, clasps my left shoulder, and places another very faint kiss on my cheek. Why do I feel like this was some experimental form of a date? If so, do I still owe my co-pay?
Not seven hours later, I see what could possibly be him coming to pick up kids at the school. I bend down to pretend to tie the non-existent lace of my shoe, passing the time, and wonder about how this small world makes me feel both safer, because we know who the players are and we're all invested, and then, at other times, utterly exposed.
What is your most awkward moment of 2009? It seems I got mine in just under the bell.
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