Cooch de grâce

Yep, it’s time for my annual…exam. Many of us would rather die than have to scoot down to  the end of the table until we feel their hand. Shit I was scooting so much my knees were beside my ears! I was like DAMN Tammy, (Tammy is my nurse practitioner the I see)  where is your hand? She laughed. I didn’t. She is all happy and smiling like she is running on time. It’s now well after 1pm, my appointment was at 10am! Yeah, I’m still rolling my eyes at her. And why do they want to have a conversation with you while your ass is hanging off the table and you are  spread eagle in front of someone who has no intention on pleasuring you, in fact, its quiet  the opposite. Let’s be clear, no, I don’t want to talk about, me, your kids, my kids,you or current events. My eyes remain focused on the drop ceiling tile that is askew. I can hear movement “down there” but she is not about her business. I know supplies are there, because I have checked and added a few things just in case. (Remember I’ve been in this room for over an hour)I didn’t want her to have to leave the task at hand not even for 1 second. She continues to yada yada, blah blah, and I’m wondering just why didn’t  these professionals fix this tile. And I begin to look for more mishaps. When I finally rejoin Tammy it feels like my feet have been in the stirrups long enough to give birth. So I say to her, “Tammy, whatcha doing down there?” Well her response was, “You are going to feel a little pressure”. And I hear the “click” (The Cooch de grace) ladies you know what I mean. I immediately tense, “Just relax” she says. Yeah you relax when you have  mutant plastic duck billed platypus hanging from, umm your platy-pus. I would have kicked her, but refer back the sentence that immediately proceeds this one :-/  images[10] (2)

Then begins the her confusion as to what she is actually supposed to be doing “down there”. Now I know, she’s made of sugar and spice and everything nice, but dammit, this is not the inside of a mixing bowl that you are scraping, do, leave some sugar inside my walls.  Finally, she says, “Everything looks great”. In other words she is on fleek! LMAO. Yeah, yeah, thanks, but could you remove the platypus, please and thank you!

Just when I thought it was safe to  finally breath again, she becomes 2 fingaz Flo. Lawd, let this be over. Finally I hear the peel and pop of the gloves. Yaas, its over. Betcha she didn’t have to tell me to take my feet out of the stirrups and push back on the table. Of course when I do the push, back my lovely paper gown, designed by Medline, becomes an off the shoulder little number as it rips. I have now just recreated  Janet Jacksons Super Bowl moment, of sorts. Then I lose the bottom as I grab for the shoulder. It slides to the floor. Now, not only am I boob out, but my platypus who is normally very shy, is now out on front street, again. Sigh. At this point, I’m so over it I just hop down off the table and proceed to clean up and get dressed. Get this, Tammy says I’ll leave so you can get dressed. My thought, “Really heffa? Now you are uncomfortable? GTFOH. You have fondled my breast and squeezed my nipples, fondled my platypus with your duck-billed platypus and your fingaz, now you are uncomfortable with me getting dressed? Feel free to take your torture device and sitcho yo ass right here, and make small talk with me until I have cleaned you and I am completely dressed. Instead I just rolled my eyes at her, again, as I proceeded to get dressed.

I know I made light of my exam but, it is a very serious matter. Although, we dread this, it is a necessary part of being a healthy woman. It is a pain in the butt (well  not the butt, lol) and it can be embarrassing and definitely puts us in a very compromising  and vulnerable  position, however, I’d rather go through this once a year, because as the saying goes, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound cure.” And let us not forget early detection!

These preventative screenings are available for a reason, they work! And they are available to all women regardless if you have insurance or not. There is always your local heath department/social services department, they should be able to give you a  you a list of resources. Also keep your eyes open for the various health fairs that pop up. They will listen to your heart, check your pulse and blood pressure as well as give you resources.  You need to get your annual pap or at least biannual exam as well as a clinical breast exam, family history or not.

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Next stop mammogram…it’s a year round effort, not just October. Like the saying goes, “Big or small, lets save them all!”




Fears of a Mother

I’m sure for some that read this post, you will say that I’m overreacting and that is okay. However, until you have walked in my shoes, judge ye not.

I look up from my work and it’s 3:30pm, first day back to school for the kids after the holiday break. Brendan, my 16-year-old should be home soon. I turn my attention back to my work. My little yappy Chihuahua has joined me in my work space. Now I’m more cognizant of the time. I can’t have him barking while I work, and when the door opens, he’s likely to bark.  It’s 3:50pm he should be here at any second. Again, I turn my attention back to my work. As I answer the phone to deal with a client, I notice the time, 4:15pm, hum the bus driver must be off a bit, it happens. 4:30, and I text my daughter, to check her location. If she is not on the bus yet, I know there is an issue with the route. Well, she walks in the door at 4:35pm. They ride the same bus. High schoolers get dropped off and the  driver doubles back for the middle schoolers. Now, I’m just a little worried. His phone is broken so I can’t call him. He has never been this late before. I check all my phones to see if I’ve missed a call, and I haven’t. My heart begins to race just a bit as my mind starts to allow recent headlines to enter. But, when could something have happened? Where? I began to tell myself just calm down and start calling his friends. As  I become a telemarketer of sorts, scanning my call list, I send my daughter to a neighbor’s house to see if he is there. No answer with his friends that I would think he would be with. And as I look out the window I see my daughter walking away from the neighbor’s house and his friend is standing in the driveway as if saying Brendan was not there. My breath comes in quick inefficient gasps, my heart is at an all out sprint, fingers grow cold and my mind flips through the headlines like old school microfiche. Just as I start to descend my driveway to, well, interrogate my young neighbor, I catch a glimpse of the signature red pants. I shield my eyes from the glare of the setting sun and it brings into focus his familiar, relaxed I’m to cool for you gait, faster than greased lightening, my emotions toggle from fear to anger. My fight or flight system has gone into kick his ass. Who cares he is 6’0″ 200lbs and I’m 5’0″ 145lbs.

I called out to him, “Be in front of me in 5 seconds!” His response, “What did I do? I just stopped for a minute.” My response, “4-3-2.”

His pace quickens as he spews excuse after excuse with each trying to remain cool in front of his friend, but get in front of me without running, step. When he is in front of me I want to slap his face for scaring me, and squeeze him tightly in my arms because he is safe.

I said to him, “My first inclination is to  strip you of all of your extras, iPod, game system, television, everything.”

Of course his face contorts with protest at just the thought of it.

I asked him, “Do you know how late you are? Over an hour. Have you lost your mind? You know you ALWAYS check in with me first! “I was just 3 houses down. We were not doing anything. I was checking out his birthday loot. Why are you so mad?” He asked. “We have rules for a reason! And when you break them you upset the balance of things and cause undue stress and other untoward feelings, emotions and consequences. And if you really want to know my issue, I was afraid! I was afraid something had happened to you! Afraid I would get that call that no parent wants to get. Afraid you were laying in the streets calling me and I’m not there to protect you!”

And in the midst of me telling him this, my tears fall like I had gotten that call.  They fall so fast and furiously one of my contacts rides the rapids to my cheeks. And when he realizes just how serious that is to me, his eye well up with tears and he grabs me and hugs me and tells me not to cry. “I’m fine, nothing happened. I didn’t know you felt like that.” he says. Then he assures me, “I’ll never do that again. I’m sorry.”

I must say I did not expect such a volcanic like eruption of emotions. I really only expected to bestow a consequence on him, tell him not to do it again and head back to work. Such a showing of emotions just makes me realize just how truly frightened I am for my sons. It allows me to realize that I really do have a grip on how our black sons are viewed and how little value is placed on their lives. This is a cold unwelcoming world to our boys. Am I overreacting? I don’t think so. If it seems that way to you, I’m sure you are not the mother of a black teenage male. It is my hope that my reaction to a seemingly innocent detour will make him think twice when he is out. It is my hope that he will use his critical thinking skills when he is out. As well as open his eyes to the reality of the world he must maneuver his way through and he will move accordingly.

Sometimes friends will say nothing ever happens out there in the boondocks where you live. Especially nothing like that. Well it is my hope, that nothing like that will happen here but, I’m not naïve enough to think that it can’t.

This is the fear of a mother in the United Stated of America, in 2015.