There's Always More Information Than You Asked For

If you have been reading the blog for a while, or have heard some of my stories, you are probably wondering what I could possibly share that even I previously thought of as TMI (too much information). Well you can thank my new friends in Listen to Your Mother for breaking down a barrier, and making me feel that, yes, I can share even this. (You want to come to the show now, right?)

Several months ago I discovered a lump, node, bulbous protrusion, I-don't-know-what, towards the opening of my vagina. I probed it, looked at it in the mirror, and had no explanation of how it had gotten there. It was a little bigger than a pea, slightly lighter in color than the surrounding skin, and not at all painful.

But still, it was a new something in a delicate area, so I called the Kaiser nurse line.

Now let me tell you about the Kaiser nurse line. They are my safeguard against hypochondria. The Internet can convince you that whatever your symptom, you are going to die from it. So instead of trying to decide myself between, "it's probably nothing" and "I'm dying," I call the nurse line. They will tell me if I shouldn't sweat it or if I should see a doctor. OR if I should see a doctor RIGHT AWAY.

The problem is that there are a handful of symptoms that could easily be nothing, but must be CYA (cover your ass) red flags. If you call with one of these symptoms the nurse line will calmly tell you that you must see a doctor within 24 hours, and then the doctor will treat you like a hypochondriac, which is, of course, what I'm trying to avoid.

I called in and had to talk into the phone about my vaginal barnacle (red flag) and the nurse made me an appointment within the next 24 hours. Because this was an urgent appointment, I didn't exactly have my pick of doctors. The nurse asked if I would mind seeing a man. I had never had a man gynecologist before. But, I thought to myself, I'm a modern woman. I'm open minded. I've had two children, which involved lots of nudity in ways that were not at all flattering. There were only women and John in the room, but still, I can totally handle seeing a male gynecologist. Another man seeing me naked isn't that big a deal, right?

Things started off okay. He shook my hand, was polite, and there was a nurse in there the whole time, which I understand is standard practice. Half-nude in the stirrups, I let him prod around down there.

His diagnosis: sebaceous cyst. Basically a cyst filled with fat. It formed on the scar I had from Virginia's birth. (She was born with her hand near her head, so her elbow and shoulders came out at the same time.) The strange thing is, I had no tearing during Horatio's birth. So NOW I get a cyst on the scar tissue, just out of nowhere?

After he told me what it was, I was still lying there in the stirrups. He poked at the cyst. Then, quite casually, with his finger on the cyst, he asked, "Do you want me to take care of it?"

I had a moment of panic, imagining him holding a scalpel inches from my skin. (It's not like I could see what was going on down there.) I really thought he was about to cut the cyst open right then.

I hesitated. And (if he was about to do anything) he hesitated.

"Uhmmmm..." I said, "This might go away on its own?"

"Yes." He said.

"And it isn't harmful in any way?"

"No."

I told him, "Let's just leave it."

He agreed. He even volunteered that cutting it open would be a little painful and I would need some time to heal before resuming regular activities. But if I did nothing I could go on with business as usual.

Overall, I got what I wanted out of the visit. I confirmed that I wasn't dying. Even though I had an urgent appointment and I wasn't dying the doctor did not treat me like a hypochondriac. And I suffered no unnecessary cutting to my vagina.

But...I'm not sure about going back to a male gynecologist. He truly didn't do anything wrong. It was just that in that moment of panic, I realized it isn't just about a man seeing you naked. There is something else to the man/woman / doctor/patient dynamic and I may not be modern or open-minded enough to deal with it.