Drop Your Big-Girl Panties and Deal With It

Normally when you have to man-up and do something you don't really want to do, people tell you to "put on your big girl panties and deal with it."  So what happens when what you really don't want to do also necessitates taking off said big-girl panties?

Ok, stop worrying.  I'm not going into any too-big business, just noticing another blip on the wedding timeline... the doctors appointments.

Now, heaven forbid that priest number six, wherever he may be, reads this, but it shouldn't be a shock to most people that know me that B and I are planning to use birth control.  The sneaky part about getting that crazy pack of pills is that you have to have someone prescribe them for you and as much as I love my dad and rely on him for basically every medical need in the books from flu to pink eye, I cannot bring myself to call him and ask for him to pen that script.

So I asked around the office to find someone local that might be a good MD to add to my rolodex and the responses I got were hilarious and, thankfully, all about the same person.  "YOU HAVE TO GO TO DR. B" one screamed in all caps.  "Everyone at SPC goes to her," said another.  Raves all around, even when I called to book my appointment.  "You'll love her," the receptionist said.  "Bring her a Hershey's kiss and you're in!" 

I was already nervous about going to the doctor (par for the course when you've never had so much as a physical in your life, thank you fully-stocked family of MDs) and I certainly wasn't about to bring this one chocolates.  I don't care if it's an inside joke or a favorite treat, that, in my books, is a little too much.

So I fretted a little for a couple of weeks, especially as I heard from different friends about bad experiences, side-effects, and the like, then today I got up early and headed in.

After taking no fewer than three elevators (all necessary), I arrived at the office and checked in.  Everyone was nice.  One girl even asked where my shoes were from (the Mary Jane Merrels, mom, for which I gave you credit!).

Then I went back and amazingly, it was nothing.  When I was little, I'd work myself into such a tizzy about doctors appointments that my mom would stop telling me about them, only letting me in on the afternoon visit an hour or so before we went.  I'd stomp around and ask why she hadn't told me and she'd always respond that she knew it would upset me and she didn't want to see me worry myself sick over what was always nothing.  My mom is a kind soul.  She could've just said, "Because I didn't want to deal with your pint-sized pissy self stomping around for weeks."  God grant me censorship with eventual motherhood, and my apologies for thwarting it just now.

Dr. B was fabulous, answering all my questions and finishing the visit with a wink and a "That's it.  Overrated, isn't it?"  I told her how highly rated she was over at my company and she rolled her eyes and laughed.  "I keep thinking I should just do a morning clinic over there!" she replied, then grew serious and said "But know I never share your business with anyone." 

So now I'm left with a few packs of pills that will hopefully be a good "fit" for me (feel free to tell me if I'm more frustrating than usual in the near future) and a fiance that is horribly confounded with the whole thing.  Wants to understand, doesn't want to know.  He called me at work this morning and said, "Where were you?"  And I responded, "At the doctor."  "For what?" he asked.  Silence.  "OOOhh..." he replied.  Love him

So for any girls out there who are worried or wondering, know that, well, it's no big deal.  Seriously.  I'm a baby and I'd tell you.  For all guys, do me a favor and keep believing that it's horrible?  And please don't judge when the hormones take over and I post clipped comments on the blog.  Don't hate the snarky one, hate the science.

Dr. B and I had an interesting exchange as she was going over birth control info.  She told me when to start the pills and I laughed, saying it was ironic that that was right before my Catholic premarital counseling weekend.  She grew serious (which is when I noticed the pendant of Mary and Jesus hanging from her neck, I kid you not) and said that she was Catholic and definitely didn't think she was doing any wrong by prescribing birth control.  Then she started talking about Pope John Paul, the first one, the man that lived only about 30 days after becoming Pope.  He had intended to reverse the church's teachings on birth control (!) and Dr. B said she wished people had read up on where the church was going before he died.  

Of course, I head straight back to the office and start browsing the internet, discovering allegations of conspiracy by the church to, well, off him because of his generally revolutionary views.  Lots of weird stuff like the cause of his death, the timeline of his death being convoluted, etc.  I'm reading more about it, but for now I'm intrigued, and figure you can look at his views on reversing the church's stance on contraception two ways.

1) Interesting! Who knows what might have come of it...

2) He died after 33 days.  Yipes.

Or as one friend said, "Smote?"  I'm inclined to stick with number one, but I am definitely more interested in this Pope.  For better or for worse, I might have some comments for Pre-Cana after all.