"I think I've got a nether-region infection," I said to the girl on the other side of the line. "I don't know what it is but my girly part area is not happy and I need to see someone. Or, er, someone needs to look at me." After she was done giggling in my ear she made an appointment with me to see Regina, a very nice PA at my OB-GYN's office.
I arose from my chair at work carefully, fought the urge to cry out as a pain shot through my groin-al region and hobbled to my car. I managed to get to St. Mary's and into a teeny parking space with some expert maneuvering on my end and in to the office within fifteen minutes.
I was weighed (ugh.) and handed a cup (double ugh).
And then I sat there for an hour. With no book to read. And nothing to do but work on my Bookworm Score (3,578,110 and counting!) Luckily I was still dressed otherwise I would've been even more livid than expected.
Finally, Regina stuck her head in.
"I couldn't find you! My nurse went to lunch and didn't tell me you were here!"
Me and my achey girl-part were FORGOTTEN!
But she quickly had me strip down and started poking around.
"Does this hurt? This? How about this? Lemmie look at you..." Regina poked her cold gloved fingers around my thighs and my fluffy areas and then said, "Okay - sit up."
"Well," she said, "you look fine. But I think you have tendonitis."
"I have tendonitis - - - of the Vagina?" I laughed so hard that my paper sheet covering my nakedness fluttered from my flailing legs.
"Well, did you put up a Christmas Tree because you've done something where you've squatted or pulled the muscles-"
"Do I look like a gal who does a lot of physical activities?" I interrupted and erupted into giggles again.
"Well... it could've come from - intercourse." She then went on to show me all the positions it could've happened during. And then went on to say that she wouldn't encourage anything with me on top or Harry on top.
So - Merry Christmas, Harry - Santa brought you Celibacy!!!!
Summer, my ever-supportive sister wanted to know what kind of sling they made for such an ailment.
Mom, upon hearing of my diagnosis, said "Do I need to have a talk with Mr. Shivel?"
and Harry, after learning of my brokenness had this to say: "Oh yeah. I'm good!"
So Merry Christmas to all and to all - bring me some damn ice for my no-no part!