Please note the title to this entry. If you are squirmy about such things you might not want to read on, although I promise not to get too graphic.
So see, I wanted an IUD. Because the pills are off limits to me (hormones bad), and let's face it, most things are just a pain in the ass (condoms, diaphram). So, IUD.
I had to go to the Doc in a Box on campus, because my graduate assistant insurance hasn't run out yet and I don't have new insurance. In my experience, the Docs in Boxes who do GYN stuff tend to be creepy, and this guy was no exception. When I went in for the pre-IUD interview, he pretty much held my arm the whole entire time--sometimes with both hands!--but again, Doc in the Box is all we can afford at this point.
So. We begin the Procedure. And you might not know this, because nobody told me, but getting an IUD inserted? Hurts. A lot. First, obviously, you're in the really fun position that one is always in while this sort of thing is going on. Then, they give you the local anesthetic. But along with the local anesthetic, Dr. Creepy explains, he is also giving me epinephrine which, he says, might make me feel "slightly nervous."
Ten seconds later, I'm shaking uncontrollably, to the point where I can barely keep my feet in the stirrups. Dr. Creepy explains that if I would just relax this muscle, the one he's pressing on right here, this would all be somewhat less painful.
Then he tells me that he is going to measure my uterus, and I may feel some slight cramping.
Now, here's the thing. I can be wimpy in many situations but I pride myself on my pain tolerance. I've been poked and prodded by medical professionals all over this city, and I swear I've never made a peep. But I can only imagine that this "measuring of the uterus" was done with a hot poker, or else a set of Ginsu knives. I peeped.
After that came the actual insertion, which--surprise!--also hurt. In fact, that was almost 3 hours ago, and the cramping is still going on. THIS WAS NOT IN THE BROCHURE.
Afterwards, as I lay sort of broken and shaking on the table, Dr. Creepy held my arm with one hand and stroked it with the other and said some stuff, although I can't really remember what. Eventually someone brought me some ibuprofen and I took it and then I left.
On the bright side, I don't have to deal with birth control for the next five years, AND--even brighter side--I never have to see Dr. Creepy again.
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