“You are insane,” I say, laughing. “Listen, I’m at the doctor’s office now. I’ll call you after.”
“Okay. Let me know how it goes,” she says before hanging up. My music starts back just in time for me to pull into a parking spot and shut my car off.
After my mom died of cervical cancer, I swore I was going to take it seriously and get seen more. Then my older sister was diagnosed and ended up having a hysterectomy. That's when we learned you can get cervical cancer without having HPV. The more you know, I guess. It’s rare, but it happens. I don’t know if it’s genetic, but I don’t want to ignore it and find out I could have prevented my death.
I moved to Seattle for a job as a computer engineer for a company called Innovex. I primarily work on building and maintaining systems and apps for companies. I graduated high school with Harper at sixteen and promptly went to college. We are both computer engineers for Innovex, she just doesn't start for another month because she is finishing up a few things where she was an intern.
We decided to get apartments next to each other because we would likely murder the other if we had to share the same space. I like it cold, and she likes it hot. I am a night owl, and she regularly gets up at four in the morning to go to the gym. I prefer going to the gym at night when no one is there. I am an introvert, and she is an extrovert. We’ve just been friends since kindergarten, so we know how to handle one another. We know when to take space when we need it, and we don’t get mad if the other needs space.
I walk into the office, and there is an older grey-haired woman behind the desk. “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asks kindly.
“Luna Brooks,” I say, returning her smile.
“Okay, Luna. Just fill this out for me and I’ll get you back to see the doctor,” she says as she hands me a clipboard with a stack of papers.
I take the papers and find a seat. I feel like I signed less papers to start my job and get into my apartment than I have right now for someone to look at my vagina. I go through the papers and fill everything out. I go into a bit of detail with my mom and sister’s history of cancer, then take the clipboard and stack of papers back to the woman.
“Okay,” she says with a smile. “Have a seat and a nurse will call you back in a moment.”
I nod and go back to my seat. Who knows how long I’ll be waiting, so I pull out my phone and go back to reading my book. I am reading a dark romance book about a girl falling in love with her stalker. It’s nice on page, but in real life, I’d crawl into a hole and hide forever if someone like that came after me.
I’m not the type that turns heads though. I am short and curvy. My hair is half curly and half frizzy most of the time, so it stays up in a messy bun. I wear glasses because contacts give me sensory overload. It’s not that I don’t think I’m pretty. I know I am, I just don’t think I’msexy.
“Brooks,” A woman says from the doorway. I jump when she says my name. I was in the middle of the hottest sex scene I have ever read, so this is not an ideal time to be having people near myvagina. Maybe I shouldn’t be reading smut at the gynecologist's office.
I follow her back and she gets my vitals and has me pee for a pregnancy test so I can get birth control. I have debilitating cramps so I do what I can to not have a period. Sometimes the cramps still sneak up on me, with or without a period, and it takes me down for a week at a time. No one has ever cared to find out what’s going on. They just tell me that the pain isn’t as bad as I am letting on, or they will just tell me there is nothing they can do besides give me pain medicine. Yeah, let’s just give everyone narcotics. That’ll solve the problem. Thanks for the cure, doc.
The nurse takes me to the exam room and gives me a sheet to cover up with. “Just undress from the waist down. He will be in soon,” she says kindly.
“I’m sorry… what? I thought I was seeing a woman?” I ask.
“Oh, Dr. Trager? She is no longer at this office,” she says. “Is that… is that okay?”
“Uhm… Yeah, that’s okay,” I say.
As soon as the door closes, I get my phone out and call Harper. “Hey,” she says
“I’m a fucking idiot, Har. I fucked up bad,” I say, panicking.
“Whoa, girl. What’s going on?”
“It’s him. The doctor I was going to see isn’t here anymore. My hot neighbor is about to see my vagina, Harper. I’m going to fucking die.”
“You are not going to die,” she laughs. “He’s a professional. I’m sure he’s seen it all. Women regularly shit on themselves when theygive birth. I’m sure you took a shower and prepared the kitty like every other woman does before an appointment like that, so just go with it.”
“Harper… you don’t get it… I am pierced,” I say.
“Oh shit… I thought you were joking when you said you got that,” she says, stifling laughter. “What kind?”
“Princess Albertina and a VCH.” I sigh and start undressing before he comes in here and I’m not ready.
“Oh shit,” she giggles.
“I did it for the pain. Mom and Amy swore up and down that it helped them, so I got it done at eighteen. I do think it’s better, but it could be my imagination,” I say. “If I don’t call back, it’s because I died.”
“You’ll be okay. Don't squirt on the doc,” she says before abruptly ending the call.
“Bitch,” I mutter as I sit on the table and cover myself with the sheet.