Now, if that isn’t enough to make you want to read on! Seriously though, in today’s post I am going to venture into some personal, very personal information. After much discussing with Josh to determine if this was appropriate blog literature, I decided that I am in the mood to bear my soul and the story is just too funny and Italian not to share. It embodies the Italian experience that we are living here in Rome. It is one of those instances when we look at each other, laugh and say “only in Italy”. So here I go, and please note, there is a bit of soul bearing here, so I do hope that you appreciate my willingness to strip down (literally) and show you the underbelly of my everyday Roman existence.
So what is all of this hubbub about? Well folks, we are living in Italy and although I try to keep things light about the oddities of our lives, there are some things that we experience as expats that you may have never thought would be worth a blog. Today I had a situation that every American women goes through (or should go through) at least twice a year. I am going to tell you about my bi-annual visit to… “the lady doctor”. Yes, I am about to write about the Gyno, an experience that no one looks forward to, this time even more anxiety was attached as I sought to at least find a doctor who spoke English. I can brag all I want about my Italian, but there was no way I was relying on it in this particular situation.
I made an appointment, after searching in the English Yellow Pages (thank GOD for the English Yellow Pages) with a doctor who had a nice full page ad, and claimed to have done residencies in both America and England. A fertility and childbirth specialist, his practice also did regular checkups. As luck would have it, Josh happened to have the day off of work today (after working for some 36+ hours straight). Being the good husband he is, he agreed to accompany me to my appointment. We left the house this morning complete with literature for him to read in the waiting room and off to the doctor’s office for this seemingly routine visit. I must admit because of the language situation and the very delicate nature of business I was about to conduct I was in a heightened state of apprehension and very glad to have the company.We arrived to the office a few minutes before the appointment. A Russian nurse, through a little bit of broken English and a lot of bad Italian made my chart recording my name, date of birth, address and other credentials. I then needed to convey what I was coming to see the doctor for. After asking me three times if I was sure I didn’t want a blood test, I think she was finally assured that I did not, or want to become pregnant and scribbled disappointedly on my chart that I simply wanted a regular “checkup”. Here the real fun begins…
A suave looking Italian man in what I would describe as a “doctors costume” (think of the fake doctors in the movies in a white smock and a mandarin collar) enters the waiting room, he takes my hand and kisses it and shakes Josh’s hand warmly as he ushers us out of the waiting room and into his office. He wants to speak with us before my examination… So we enter into his nicely decorated office and sit down in front of his desk. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asks. This reminds me very eerily of the time when we bought our first car. I explain to him that we have recently moved to Rome and I am due for my routine check up and will soon need a refill for my contraceptive pills. “Okay”, he said very cheerfully, “but why don’t you just have a baby?. I choke a little and then Josh and I smile politely and look at each other “Well…”, I begin, as he interrupts, “how long have you been married”. Josh tells him proudly that we have been married for five years now. “Oh, it is definitely time to have the baby”. Did our parents somehow contact this man before we came? Is this life advice included in the price of the exam!? After a few more minutes of baby pressure he finally relents and tells me about the Italian version of birth control pills he can offer. I tell him that I would like something as similar as possible to the levels of chemicals and medications I am currently taking. After consulting his reference manual and finding the make up of what I was prescribed before, he tells me that there is an Italian version that I can get, but it will make me fat, specifically that it “might make you gain the ten pounds or so”. He then recommends another product and I agree to try it. With this matter settled and the prescription written out he explains that he will now do my examination. He tells me that he and Josh will chat in his office while I go with the Russian nurse to get undressed and he will come in when I am “no longer exposed”. So I leave the office with Helga, I don’t really know if that was her name, but I think it fitting. Helga stops at a door in the hallway, points and tells me in Italian/Russian/English that I must “pee pee” before I go for my exam. Is this a real medical term?
Once this business is over we proceed into a very sterile and official looking examination room, much like what I had been used to seeing stateside. I have never been so comforted by sterile metallic instruments in my life, but at least they were a universal sign for normalcy! Through a series of gesticulation and relaying on past experience I prepare myself for the exam and station myself properly on the table (I will leave these details out, for you men readers that have made it this far, ask your wives or girl friends for further description). The RussiaNurse goes to another door in the back of the room and calls “Pronto”. It seems that this room is directly connected to the office that Josh and I were just in, in fact, I can now hear the doctor and Josh laughing merrily. After a few moments wait, in walks the doctor…with my beloved Josh. Apparently this has turned into a family affair and Dr. Italian has just invited my husband to witness this momentous occasion. As Josh walks in he looks nervous and as confused as I am, but the doctor is very merry and ushers Josh into a front row seat for the show. Again, without going into too much detail things are pretty routine, but the whole experience made bizarre by having an audience. The doctor excitedly shows Josh my uterus on a screen and assures us that everything is “A-okay”. The exam is over in less than 5 minutes and we are back in the office for our final consult.
Again, here, I share very personal information in the name of humor. Apparently I have a very common medical “situation”. I have bit of “erosion” on my cervix. Nothing to worry about the doctor assures me. He illustrates the problem by showing us a series of slides that I think may make Josh faint, but he seems to be holding up just fine. The good doctor would like to treat this with a prescription for now and then gleefully tells me with eerie gesticulations that if that doesn’t work he will burn it off, “bzz bzzz” during my next checkup. He then goes onto explain how to use the prescription, which is basically a topical ointment. You can apply it whenever, he says, “but, it just depends if you like to wear the underwear at night”. He smiles knowingly, “I don’t need to know, maybe you do, maybe you don’t. You Americans because of your heritage do not like to discuss these things, but really, you have the pajamas to cover… and a woman and a man, they need to be able to breathe sometimes” he says enthusiastically and nods, “going to bed with underwear is a lot like going to bed with a hat, you need to let your cervix breath, it is up to you though, whatever you want”. By this time, the man could have said anything and it would not have fazed me, I was in the gynecological twilight zone. Oddly enough, I had sort of gotten used and almost embraced the pure madness of the situation, so I just laughed and looked at Josh, who by this time was in the same shock of all that he had just witnessed.
We finished our business in the office with the merry medical man, who again kissed my hand and slapped Josh on the back as we made our way out to the receptionist area to pay the bill. On the walk back home we both decided that this was the most fun we’d had in awhile and that we had just experienced a true dose of the Italian way of life. After having an afternoon to ponder and think the situation over, I think there are some real learnings to share here, not to mention a funny story. Lesson one, it is good to be open about such things, we stuffy puritans might benefit from the ability to talk freely about one’s total mental and physical well being. Two, it may also be good for men to experience firsthand what we women are subjected to as a routine part of our quest for good health. And finally, perhaps the biggest lesson for all… sometimes we just have to let our cervixes breathe.
