Straddling over the Doctor’s head, I couldn’t feel any more uncomfortable if he’d stuck a plank of wood inside me. It didn’t help that all the while he was talking as if he wasn’t looking straight up inside me. I knew I should have asked for a female doctor.

“How have you been since we last talked, Miss Ross?” I felt another prod and felt squeamish.

I couldn’t ask for a female doctor because I didn’t want to be a nuisance. I was always a nuisance. It was probably my nickname.

“Oh, fine,” I said, my voice high as he took one last prod and withdrew.
He scooted in his wheely chair over to his desk and frantically scribbled, his brow furrowed. I wasted no time in taking my ankles out of the stirrups; you never know when a nurse is going to come in.

“You know, I’m very fond of you…” he began.

Oh, dear. Not again. Another reason to not have a male doctor looking at your underside. I took in a breathe to shoot him down but then:

“I’m afraid it’s bad news.” And then it felt like all the air left my body.