Saturday, January 24, 2009

Spread your legs please, thank you

I am in love with my gynie. That's my ob/gyn, not some alleyway romance I am having with the man in alladin's lamp.

He is the most charming, darling man. He knows my body well, asks after the silliest issues I have, listens to every ridiculous body related doubt I have, shakes his head and seems fascinated by whatever I have to say. And after all thes years, I've even come to terms with our conversations which we conduct in what most would consider unusual positions.

My ob/gyn and I hail from the same town--Bombay. He went to the same medical school as my mum. We once frequented the same haunts in the city. Lots to talk about. Understandably, I don't meet him for coffee or lunches to catch up. He's too busy to do that.

And so we do our catching up ahem...at the ahem...examining table. Me sans clothes--I have that open gown that patients wear which strips you of any and all dignity--with legs firmly encased in stirrups. And the good doctor standing above me looking down with kind eyes and gloved hands.

Not a pretty sight for the uninitiated, but I assure you it has gotten not wholly discombobulating as it first was.

"Spread your legs please..." Smiling brightly, "so how is your handsome son?"

"Fine doctor, such a pleasure. Naughty, bright," I say gushing like any mum would.

"Work, husband?"

"Still unpublished, husband doing great."

My knees are starting to draw together. "Keep the knees apart for me please...I was in Bombay last week. The Taj Mahal hotel looks almost normal now. Am doing the pap now."

"Oh that's good," I say. Not commenting about the pap silly. The Taj Mahal hotel. Although having a regular pap is a must for those of you who think nothing's going to ever happen to you.

"They say they're going to build it back better than before. Ovaries seem fine. Good. good."

"Bombayites tend to forget the bad stuff and move on but they're urging each other not to this time...," I say wincing a little. "How about your son's wedding."

"They're getting married in California in the summer. Uterus looks fine." He laughs. "My sons gets used to the local trains in a matter of days and travels all over like a pro. I still fumble while getting into a crowded train. Old age, I suppose...so when are you planning to have another baby?

"Soon doctor. I have fondish memories of the local trains myself."

He peels of his gloves. "Everything seems fine. Get dressed and we'll have a chat in my office."

See, and for this lovely exchange I sometimes wait a hour, maybe more. All this to hear his lively voice boom across the hall as soon as he sets eyes on me. "Ranjeenee, how ARE you!! Nice to see you."

I am in love with my gynie, you see.

Dysfunctional, you say? That word just about sums up most modern relationships, doesn't it.

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