The past year has been hell. No really, pure hell. In one week I heard "you have bone marrow lesions consistent with lymphoma", "you might have cancer and need to go to the oncologist", "on top of everything else you have a massive Lyme infection." So, when the effects of Lyme destroyed my memory and cognitive functions I realized I was just going to have to laugh at the things that happened. So when my daughter would yell at me "Daisey is the dog, I am Izzy" I felt horrible but still had to laugh. I kid my fiance that he should be thrilled I only called him the wrong name a couple of times.
As my treatment for Lyme continued I spoke to my doctors and decided I wanted to eliminate whatever medications I could and take a more natural approach to healing (hindsight this was not the most brillant decision.) So my fiance and I met with my ob/gyn and discussed options that didn't involve hormones being released on a daily basis. After much discussion we decided on a diaphragm (again with hindsight this was not smart.) Now I am educated and think I know a lot about sex but I had never seen or handled a diaphragm before. All I know is when the doctor explained there were sizes I prayed to God that I wasn't an XL. Yes, I am that immature. Once I was measured (thank you God for making me a normal size) and the doctor showed us how to properly insert the diaphragm he then proceeded to warn us that it's really slippery and if you don't insert it properly it can shoot across the room. My doc and fiance thought this was hysterical, I was like a deer in headlights. then came the warning that because of it's shape it can actually stick to the wall if it goes shooting across the room. At this point I should have opted for another method of birth control. After much laughter I headed out to the store to pick up my diaphragm and contraceptive gel to go with it. (don't ask why but I find it weird that the contraceptive gel says unflavored on it. I mean it's not Mad Dog, I wasn't looking to get the grape flavor.)
I now know that the male pharmacist and the very young tech are scared shitless of the word diaphragm. And if you ask "is this the right contraceptive gel to go with that" they will start whispering, looking confused, and start referring to your diaphragm as "that thing." As in, "I'm not sure if that goes with that thing your doctor ordered." I was tempted to yell "Can you tell me if this unflavored contraceptive gel goes with my new diaphragm cause I am trying to have some mind-blowing sex tonight." I resisted the temptation.
After using the diaphragm for a while I was loving life. It's awesome. Or it was until I couldn't find it. When you have short term memory loss you begin to really try to be organized, put things back where you found them, etc... So when my fiance and I went to have sex I went to get my diaphragm out of it's case.... It wasn't there (oh shit did the kids find it, did the dog eat it, did I accidently throw it away). So I search for a while with no luck and we go to plan B, you know oral sex. After my fiance leaves to go to work I start searching the house high and low looking for the damn thing. After about 4 hrs I say to myself "where was the last place I saw the diaphragm?" This is when shear panic hits me... The last time it was in my hand was the last time we had sex and I put it inside of me. (enter the little voice in my head praying to God I don't find it still inside of me.) 5 minutes later I send my fiance this text message "I found my diaphragm." He replies "oh thats good, where was it." My response "in me", his response "WHAT???" This was followed by a series of text messages while we try to figure out when we last had sex and keep in mind we are parents so I am lucky to know what I did yesterday. This was followed by me calling the ob/gyn. Now, I seriously think I should no longer have to pay co-pays because I have provided my ob/gyn with stories he can take to conferences and humor all the rest of the crotch doctors. Once I was assured my uterus wasn't going to fall out or any other crazy shit that ran through my head I send my fiance a message telling him not to worry, the doctor said everything will be ok.
We laugh about this all the time which is really all you can do. I mean, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. But now everytime I get some, I also get a text message about 8 hrs later reminding me to take my diaphragm out.
No comments:
Post a Comment