Fuck you, you stupid cat! I can’t count with you staring at me like that. And if cats really could say “Oops” they’d do it when they shit on the SIDE of the litter box instead of in it.
I stare at the squares and the numbers on the calendar until they all start to blur together, either from eye strain or tears, I'm not sure which.
“First, how about we just have you scoot down to the end of the table and we’ll check you out. You’re due for your yearly exam next month anyway so we might as well get that taken care of,” Dr. Williams says as he slides his chair closer to me while the nurse pulls out the extension at the end of the table and adjusts the stirrups for my feet.
I lie back and put my legs up in the air while the nurse slides a table over with the pap test kit already set up on top.
Right now, I wouldn’t mind a little Drew humor to take my mind off of things. Something to the effect of, “How’s that cunt scrape coming along?”
I squeeze my eyes shut while the doctor goes to work, sticking his hands where only one man has gone before.
“So, have you been watching the new Bachelorette? That chick is a train wreck!” Dr. Williams says with a laugh.
“Um…”
“Did you see when she got all trailer park on that one guy? Wagging her finger and shaking her head? You can take the girl out of the trailer park…” Dr. Williams trails off with another laugh as I hear the metal clink of the speculum.
“My daughter likes to watch that stupid show just to see the pretty dresses she’s going to wear,” he tells me as he continues working between my legs.
No really, it’s perfectly fine to talk about reality television and YOUR KID while your fingers are all up in my business. How does this work when he’s at home? Is it the exact opposite when he’s sitting around the dinner table? “So did I tell you about this woman today? Her cooch hadn’t been shaved in days. What a trainwreck! Can you pass the potatoes? I only treat her because she’s got a pretty uterus. How did you do on your spelling test, Cindy Lou?
Dr. Williams finishes digging to China, slides back and slips off his rubber gloves while he stands.
The nurse takes my arm and helps me sit up. I try to situate the paper shirt and skirt thing to cover myself back up but it seems like the fucking thing shrunk. I give up and just keep my legs as tightly together as I can. It doesn’t seem appropriate to flash the goods to the doctor now that the exam was over. It would be like walking up to your dentist in the grocery store and showing him your teeth. There is a time and a place for everything.
“So? Is everything okay? What’s next?” I ask, hoping since he hasn’t said much during the exam, aside from television gossip, that all is good and I'm worrying for nothing.
“Well, we’ll order up some blood work, and I’ll see you back here in four weeks,” he said with a smile as he wrote something else on my chart. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”
~
Did you know The Dollar Store sells pregnancy tests? It’s true. And even though all these stupid dollar stores should change their names to “The Dollar Store – Everything Isn’t Really a Dollar, We Just Like to Fuck With You”, pregnancy tests are in fact one of the few things there that actually only cost one dollar. Which begs me to ask the question why the hell did I get a dirty look from the cashier when I asked for all thirty-seven tests? Like that’s never happened before? They are pregnancy tests for ONE DOLLAR, people. Gavin gets one dollar for doing chores around the house every once in a while. Even HE can afford to buy a pregnancy test. Why a four-and-a-half-year-old would need to buy a pregnancy test is beyond me, but these are the facts.
Arguing with the cashier and telling her I hope she slams her ginormous tits into the drawer of the cash register probably isn’t my finest moment, but it keeps my mind off of the fact that I might be pregnant.
Yes, I said might. I have just finished peeing on the twenty-third test and Dr. Williams had told me I was pregnant when he fondled my uterus, but he could have been wrong. Doctors get things wrong all the time. They remove a kidney when they mean to remove a gallbladder, and they forget to take clamps and shit out of someone before they sew them up. He could definitely be wrong about my uterus. How many uteri does he stroke on a daily basis? Maybe he's just off his game. Maybe he hadn't even been touching my uterus but had his hand around my spleen. But that would probably mean he was up to his elbows in my vagina. It had been uncomfortable, but not elbows-deep uncomfortable.
I stand at the sink in the bathroom and stare at the pregnancy test in my hand, waiting for the five minutes to be up so I can gouge out my eyes when I see another positive result. When the timer on my cell phone beeps with the new tone (“SWEET MOTHER FUCKING JESUS IT’S TIME!”) I downloaded just for this purpose, I glance down and try not to cry.