Y'all. I can't even today. I debated on writing about my doctors appointment I went to on Monday because although it's hilarious, it was also mortifying. Then I decided against it. So I basically had my mind made up that you weren't going to be able to laugh at my expense.
Then today happened. Someone upstairs was like "You don't want to write about how you almost impaled your doctor with a projectile speculum? That's fine. I'll make it so you accidentally flush your glasses down an automatic toilet filled with your own pee and someone else's skid marks. Done. Now you have to tell your stories."
Interested? If not, click that little "x" on your tab and don't look any farther. If you are interested still, simmer down, buckle up and grab some tissues because my week has been a doozy.
After my last doctors appointment, I was informed I needed a follow-up. I'll spare you the details and just give you the funny stuff. I will need to tell you that it was a lady appointment because that's pertinent information.
I....I don't even know how to start this.
So there I was, laying on a bed, wrapped in those god awful giant paper towels the doctors give you to cover your wobbly bits... (which makes NO SENSE to me because you're gonna be inspecting those wobbly bits anyways. You expect me to be modest? I digress.)
So there I was ( I realize I've said this twice...but I don't know how else to even...), on the elevated bed in the doctors office, covered with a giant paper towel and my feet in some stirrups like I was going to some weird rodeo.
"Alright Mrs. Riley. I'm going to need you to relax your butt. You're super tense and it's making it difficult to insert the speculum."
"I'm trying. I can think of a million different places I'd rather be than having my lady bits in your face. This is super uncomfortable."
The doctor was having NONE of my sass. Which, I suppose I wouldn't have it either if I had to look at meat curtains all day long.
"Okay, I'm going to insert the smaller speculum since you seem to be having a problem with the larger one."
Yep. Sure do.
After she inserted the smaller and second FREEZING COLD METAL DUCK BILL THING up where the sun don't shine, I immediately tensed up again. This isn't Guam. It's chilly here. Inside and out. No pun intended. But seriously, I wasn't aware places even still used the metal ones. I thought they were all plastic. And if you are using metal, why isn't it in a cute little heated box or something. Why did you just pull it out of the ice chest?
"Ma'am. Please. You're going to need to relax. I can't do anything until you put your butt down. Alright, that's better. Now I'm going to insert the swab and move stuff around, you'll feel slightly..."
The words weren't even out of her mouth when I felt the pressure release from the lady cave. In a split second, I felt better, saw her duck out of the way and throw her arms to her chest. I couldn't even wrap my brain around what just happened. I launched that sucker out of the taco cabana and straight at my doctor.
"Oh. My. God. I AM SOOO SORRY!!! I've never had that happen before. I don't even...what even. Oh my god. Are you alright?"
She responded with a frazzled "I've been doing this for 28 years and I also have never had that happen before. I don't think we're gonna continue with the exam. You can come back and see me in two weeks please."
Oops. She left and said to meet her in her office. After I dressed myself while simultaneously blushing (I didn't even know I could do that anymore), I sat in her office with my head down like I had just been called to the principals office. She sauntered in and said "Wow. Now that was an interesting appointment wasn't it?" to which I responded with "I really am sorry my vagina projectile shot a metal speculum at your face. It won't happen again...I don't think."
She said "Well now you can tell your doctor you shot a speculum at me! He'll like that." - She was laughing as was I.
"Great, how did you know I wanted to tell Dr. McSteamy that I'm able to shoot foreign objects out of my front butt at people's faces. Maybe I should move back to Guam and practice with ping pong balls. I know there's a market for it there."
We had some good chuckles...then I left and immediately called my mom...still blushing because...good lord am I going to be able to spit out some kids if these fertility treatments work.
This was Monday. It's Thursday. If you want to have an exciting life, be my friend. You can live vicariously through me.
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I have accidentally been leaving my glasses at work because I leave during the day time and don't need them but I definitely need them for my drive to work at 5 a.m. Which doesn't help me when I leave them on the coffee pot overnight. My eyesight isn't bad, it's just not great so I try to avoid driving in the dark as often as possible.
Today I thought to myself "You know what, I'm going to put my glasses on my collar so I don't forget them. I can't forget them if they're around my neck."
Fast forward to the end of the work day, I literally have 40 minutes left and I have to use the urination station something fierce. So I choose the first stall. That's my favorite. It has the highest toilet seat and I seem to be a lot taller than most of the females I encounter. It makes me feel like I'm sitting on a throne. Okay, not really, however I don't feel like I'm doing a trust fall when I sit down to get down to business. I always inspect the toilet before going. I think it's important.
Today I notice someone had left skid marks (this is also pertinent information for the story you're about to read). Usually, I would move to another stall because ew. Today, I decided not to because I was having one of those "Good lord I'm going to pee myself if I don't unbutton these pants at this very moment" kind of things. The toilets are also automatic and super ridiculously strong. Like the ocean probably loses a 1000 gallons of water for one flush (not really, but you get my drift)...so what took place in there prior to my visit must have been...well you know.
After I finished relieving myself, I knocked my glasses out of my shirt and into the toilet.
"OHHHH SHIT. OH MY GOD NO. NO NO NO." - I said half of that, the other half I was thinking in my head.
Then came the bargaining....do I reach in there? No, someone else's skids and my pee are in there...but ugh, oh god I paid 300 bucks for these. I'm gonna do it. Ugh this is so gross.
I stood up, pulled my underoos and pants up bracing myself for what I was going to have to do...then I turned around and in a split second, the toilet flushed and they were gone.
"OH MY GOD. NO."
I proceeded to tell my coworkers while laughing and crying from laughing so hard. Then I felt like I needed to do the right thing and tell maintenance what had happened, in the event there's a huge blockage or something, they'll know it's because I flushed my glasses.
I flagged down Mike, the head maintenance guy and recounted my story to him while blushing (for the second time this week) and I could tell he was having a hard time wrapping his head around my woes. After he stopped laughing, he looked at me and said "You realize you aren't going to get your glasses back, right? You didn't reach in there, did you? Hey Steve! Come over here and talk to Rachele. Now tell him what you told me."
Then I had to tell the other maintenance guy what happened...he was also dumbfounded at my sheer luck and after HE STOPPED laughing, he got silent and said "Now you know you're not gonna see those glasses ever again. Just so we're clear. Also, you probably wouldn't want to wear them anyways. You didn't stick your hand in there did you?"
I replied with "I just want y'all to know I just peed in there. It was someone else's poop stuck to the toilet wall but I really had to pee. Also, I thought about reaching for them...but the automatic flusher beat me to it and now I'm actually really grateful because that would have been gross. Even if it was my own poop, still would have been nasty."
And now you're either really grossed out...or your stomach hurts from laughing. Or probably both. And just a note for future references...If your glasses aren't on your face, don't take them into the bathroom.
That's it for this saga of Riley Writes. Now I'm going to drink wine.
Xoxo,
Rachele
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