Saturday, June 4, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
|If Life's a Beach...My periods must be drawing the sharks.|
For that matter, lets talk about pap smears for a moment, shall we?
The vet proceeded to ask me how long I had been actively raising my but in the air for other toms, when I had come into heat last, etc... all of which I ended up answering with a very disappointing, "My last heat... well, I'm not quite sure. They are completely irregular. Always have been. I stopped keeping track..." and other similar answers.
Firstly, I had gone to the bathroom not ten minutes before they handed me the cup to pee in, so I could only hope I could squeeze out enough for them to be satisfied. As it is, peeing in a cup and pawing over this now hot cup to them is just weird, disconcerting, and in all other ways, disturbing and embarrassing. Perhaps I need to grow up, but I've always been a little uncomfortable with this part of any veterinary procedures.
Ladies, you have NOT lived until you have felt cold air circulate where it should never be felt!
"I'm going to feel your ovaries now," he said, and started prodding around my groin, and I was relieved that part of this did not involve invading inside further. Oh, how wrong I was.
Without warning, the man's cold, gloved hand inserted itself fully. My heart nearly stopped from the shock, and I think that if the Evil Contraption of Terror had not been there, he may have lost his hand forever.
I was ever so relieved when the Evil Contraption of Terror was unclasped a short while later.
I have to give the vet credit. He really did all he could to make me feel as comfortable as I possibly could, and I don't suppose any other male doctor could have done any better, however uncomfortable and invaded I may have felt. So, cheers, mate. You did the best any man could do while handling a kitty's ovaries.