This is unusual for me, but I’m just going to leave a little warning here that in this post I will be talking about the – uh – delicate area of a woman’s body.
But now that I’ve done that, I would like to welcome you back to my blog! As usual, nothing much has happened this week. I’m hoping to move back up to Cumbria soon and have been job and house searching – but apparently it’s impossible to do at the same time. It’s a weird system, because you need a house to get a job and a job to get a house. Being an adult just gets harder and harder every day.
Aside from that, the only other notable thing that’s happened is that I went to hospital yesterday. I don’t really want to talk about why (I’m fine, don’t worry) but I want to tell you all about my traumatic experience. (Okay, it wasn’t really ‘traumatic’, it was just uncomfortable but I like to add a sprinkle of drama.)
I arrived for my appointment half an hour early, so I sat in the waiting room and aimlessly scrolled through Facebook and Instagram (as you do) before checking in.
Hospitals always make me uncomfortable, because nobody ever wants to be there. The corridors remind me of a zombie apocalypse, despite being the cleanest places in the country. The nostalgic smell of horrible school dinners drifts into every corner, reminding you of cottage pie or that weird sponge with white icing sprinkles (Brit kids, you know what I mean.)
After I checked in, a nurse came and asked me if I wanted a cup of tea. I accepted the kind lady’s offer, since I had never been offered a cup of tea in a waiting room before. When she came with the tea, she also offered me a packet of biscuits. I was shocked, I had never been treated so well.
I later found out that the kindness was only because my appointment was 2 hours late, but I didn’t mind. I could see the nurses were rushed off their feet and whilst the old people around me complained, I was just grateful for the free appointment. I mean, if the nurses were just stood around having a natter it would have been a different story, but I just felt sorry for them.
As I sipped on my tea, I almost choked as I had a very grim thought:
I wonder how many people have died here.
That’s when I realised why hospitals are apocalyptic, not because of some imaginary virus, but because ghosts roamed the white corridors. I shuddered the thought away and started trying to guess the answers in The Chase. It’s a good thing I’m very easily distracted.
Finally, it was time for me to be seen. A very lovely woman lead me to the room, where the Doctor was sat waiting for me. He looked through my records and asked me all the questions.
Then he asked me to pee in a cup, which I did. But when I opened the toilet door the lovely woman from earlier was there, waiting for me. She was looking me in the eye, smiling. I’m pretty sure it was meant to be comforting, but considering the situation it was just downright creepy. She took my sample and then lead me to a room, where she told me to take my trousers off.
I was not expecting this. Nobody had warned me about any nudity, if they had I would have shaved, or at least warned them to bring a machete.
She obviously saw the surprise on my face and told me not to worry. Which was very easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one getting her bits observed. She shut the curtains and let me undress and cover myself with a paper towel, not that it mattered because clearly he was going to see everything anyway.
I suddenly wished that Ian was with me. If I had known, I would have asked him to get time off work. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what was happening. ‘This will prepare you for a smear in the future.’ I told myself.
I opened one eye to find I was surrounded. One nurse was getting a scanner ready, and the lovely lady, who I now realised was not so lovely, offered to hold my hand. I gave her a look that said ‘Thank you but nothing you can do is going to make this a comfortable experience.’
I have a tattoo on my hip that says ‘Allons-y.’ Nobody I have told about this tattoo has known what it means. But of course, the Doctor knew. ‘Yes, let’s go.’ He said, and I had never wanted to die more than I did in that moment.
When it was finally over, I had never been so quick to put my knickers on in my life. After that, he tried to explain to me what the problem was but all I could think about was my desire to leg it and never return.
So yeah, that’s all that has happened recently. For those. wondering why I’m posting this – my blog is literally called ‘The tragic life of Lucie.’ This was one of the awkward situations I found myself in, so I thought I may as well share it with the world.
In other words: I have no shame.
Have you ever had an awkward hospital appointment? Let me know!