I had a “well woman” visit last week. They poked, prodded, mashed me flat, generally made me as uncomfortable as humanly possible, and charged a small fortune for it. Today I got a call from the doctor’s nurse saying he would like to speak with me. Our conversation follows.

“Mrs. W?”


“You’re pregnant.”


“Just joking.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Umm, We found something odd in your tests, and need to do further testing right away.”

“What did you find?”

“Well, I’d like for you to come in, so we can discuss it.”

“If I tell you what you found, will you talk to me about it over the phone?”

“Excuse me?”

“When my pap was first examined, it was perfectly clear, but when it was examined by the Tech later, he noticed what could be pre-cancerous cells. Right?”

“Umm, right.”

“Doctor, You did a very thorough exam. Did you notice anything weird during your examination, anything growing where it shouldn’t be or shaped wrong?”

“No. Everything seemed as it should be, but you should have a biopsy, just to be sure.”

“Doctor, this condition was fist noticed while I was pregnant with my youngest child. He turned 21 in July, and I’ve had five biopsies in the last 21 years. All of them were negative.”

“That doesn’t mean they will stay negative. It’s a situation we need to keep a careful eye on. Let’s schedule you for that biopsy.”


“Excuse me?”

“I said no.”

“Mrs. W, if you’re not going to cooperate, I can’t be responsible…”

“I didn’t ask you to be responsible. I know my body very well, am quite good at listening to it, and more than capable of being responsible for myself. More tests are pointless and unnecessary and I won’t be subjected to them.”

“I think you should consider seeing another doctor.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said during this call.”

I must have hurt his feelings, because he hung up on me.

And people wonder why doctors get on my last good nerve.