So, due to certain activities undertaken last night, by the time it was time for bed I was pretty sure I had some serious vaginal bruising, well to be exact he was pretty sure.
And a sharp spasmic pain that extended from deep inside my vagina and went up to my right ovary.
I’ve had vaginal bruising before so I decided I would ice it and then wash it with saline water. Since the ice numbed the area out, I was able to get to sleep.
However the moment I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the dried blood and the extreme effort it took to walk.
So I did what any sane person would do (what I ideally should have done last night), I called my gynecologist and told her I had an emergency and needed to see her. After much cajoling she agreed to see me at 9. (Not only should these people be making house calls for the kind of money they charge, but also when did 9 AM become early enough to see a patient to be considered a favour?)
It didn’t occur to me (as I think it shouldn’t) that I needed to be embarrassed or have a cover story prepared (like seriously, what would you have me say; my panties have giant uncontrollable projectiles!).
There I was, at her clinic, explaining to her that I had been afflicted with a sexual injury.
She gives me a local examination (point of mention there may have been a few bite marks in places one might not expect to see bite marks) and this was the conversation after (it’s somewhat abridged):
Her: Are you married?
Me (in my head: I’ve told you like four times before) No, I am not.
Her: I need to ask you a personal question.
Me (in my head: you just had your fingers in me lady): Yeah sure.
Her: Was the sex consensual?
Me (in my head: damn it, I should have expected this, idiot.): Are you asking me if I was raped?
Her: You are under no obligation to talk..
Me: It was consensual, the sex was consensual.
Her: Pain during sexual activity is a warning sign, it’s not natural. You see, for sex to occur naturally both parties have to be aroused.
Me (in my head: dafaq you say you crazy woman): I understand.
Her (suspicious look that leaves nothing to imagination): Okay.
You have some severe bruising and some trauma, it’s a minor tear.
I’m going to prescribe some local ointment and some pain killers. Also I would recommend you refrain from sexual activity for a few days.
Me: Okay, that sounds good. Wait, what’s a few days?
Her (inexplicable look of judgment and confusion–seriously am I not supposed to ask for specificity): 5-7 days. Do you have any other drugs in your system?
Me (in my head: did she say 5-7 days, that can’t be right…wait what??): Excuse me?
Her: I mean, have you consumed any alcohol or other substances?
Me: No. Are you sure this is relevant?
*awkward silence*
Her: I’d like you to get a few routine tests for a few STDs.
Me: I was tested less than 3 months ago, on your recommendation. And my reports should be on your records.
Her: Just to be sure.
I know it may not be my place, I can recommend a psychiatrist you could talk to.
Me (in the head: what in holy hell is going on here): No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be going now. Thank you very much for seeing me on short notice.
*Running away as fast as my consensually (but admittedly accidentally) injured vagina would allow.*
Maybe the ER would have been a better fucking option.
Genetically Enslaved 