The Epitome of Awkward

Think of the most awkward moment imaginable. Think … Michael Scott awkward.

Now multiply that by 10.

That’s what I just experienced.

At least, that’s what I had expected to experience.

Let me back up to when I found out that I was pregnant with the twins, so you can fully understand the scope of the situation. At the time, I didn’t have an OB in the area. I asked friends for recommendations. Several suggested one clinic in particular.

The dilemma: Even before I knew I was having twins, I was thrown into that semi “high risk” category because of my prior c-sections. Generally, you can’t find a surgeon at a family practice. You can almost never find an OB who also does pediatrics and beyond.

So, I did what anyone without much of a lead on a good doctor would do: I started at the top of the alphabetical list of providers accepted by my insurance. I called each one to see if they (1) were taking new patients, (2) could perform c-sections, and hopefully, (3) would be our family doctor as well.

Initially, I struck out. Not accepting patients. Can’t perform c-sections. No. No. No.

It didn’t take as long to get down the alphabet as I had expected. Turns out, this doctor was at the same clinic friends had suggested. I scheduled my first prenatal appointment.

That was over 2 years ago.

When you’re pregnant with twins and have two other kids, you tend to spend a lot of time in the clinic. Through these visits, I got to know Dr. B. well. I enjoyed going in because he was thorough, patient, and downright fun to chat with. When my husband, Clint, switched jobs, I had a near heart attack, worrying that we wouldn’t be able to go to that clinic anymore. It seems near impossible to find a doctor you actually enjoy going to. But, it was even more than that. You see, by this point, I had seen several doctors in that clinic and enjoyed every single one of them.

It wasn’t a fear of losing one doctor.

It was over losing an entire clinic.

Thankfully, our new insurance was also compatible and we didn’t have to go anywhere.


Then, with a little blog stalking (don’t judge me, it was mutual), I started getting to know his wife, Jenny, who now has me addicted to running and reality TV.

Soon, he wasn’t Dr. B., he was David.

And he and Jenny are my friends.

Then, through them, I met a whole, stellar, down-to-earth group of friends who not only have similar parenting philosophies and hate typical girl drama, but also have aspirations and goals beyond that of being a parent, something I’ve only occasionally found in other moms. They brought me in and treated me like I had been there all along.

All of this has been a whirlwind of awesome.

But then, it came. The letter I knew was coming, but had tried to push out of my mind…

Dear Lindsay,

Our records show that you’re due for your annual pap/ pelvic exam. Please make an

appointment at your earliest convenience.

Blah, blah, blah … something about insurance card, yakitty smack.

Sincerely yours,

David B., MD

“That’s why you don’t become friends with your doctor,” Clint chuckled.

I hate when he’s right.

A little while ago, I had a conversation with David about how I wasn’t looking forward to that annual appointment. It was fine when we were mere acquaintances, but when I’ve watched your kids, eaten your food, sworn at you in a soccer game … well, that’s just a whole different can of worms. He offered that it’s his job and isn’t any big deal to him saying, “It’s just bodies,” but said that he’d understand if I wanted to switch providers.

I considered it for a minute.

Quickly, I realized that I’ve now eaten dinner with and/or watched the kids of at least four other doctors at the clinic. It really wasn’t going to be less awkward to go to them.

I reminded myself about why I continued to have us see him in the first place: He is a good doctor. I started as his patient on a whim, but continued going because he knows his stuff. No, I decided, I could suck it up. It’s just bodies, after all.

Plus, I figured it would make a hilarious blog post.

So there I was this morning, about to be adorned in a witch-on-a-broomstick themed drape/smock thing. I secretly wondered if I should take offense.

“Your head goes in here,” David said, pointing at the hole in the top.

“Good thing you told me that,” I sarcastically replied.

Just like old times.

I undressed, thinking about how awesome it was that I was getting the most out of my super-shave. Last night, Jenny and I ran in the pool, so I did the whole bikini line, leg shave ordeal. And, though I well-know now that doctors don’t really care or notice that kind of thing, I felt more comfortable. Plus, I like killing two birds with one stone. Efficiency rules.

Naked. Exam table. Stirrups.

Enter formerly just-doctor, now friend-and-doctor, husband of my friend, dude who stood in my kitchen 2 days ago drinking an eggnog latte and chit chatting about random life-facts.

But, to my total surprise … it wasn’t awkward.

He tried distracting me with conversation. I knew what he was doing, but appreciated it all the same. He didn’t make fun of me for being nervous, and instead, asked if I was okay. The guy who joked with me about being a wuss for crying over my broken toe yesterday, was sensitive and empathetic today.

The best part, is that tomorrow, we’ll resume our normal back-and-forth banter where he teases me that he totally messed up my tubal ligation, and I tell him he’s dead meat if I end up pregnant again, but for that 10 minutes of awkward semi-nakedness, I was so thankful that it was possible to go backward to that original doctor/patient relationship.

I went in to the appointment hoping to come out with a hilarious blog post, but instead emerged with the realization that I am incredibly lucky. I’m lucky to have found a clinic full of amazing doctors, several of whom are now my friends. I’m lucky to have medical care at my fingertips and friends who have firsthand knowledge of it. So many people out there seem to think of their doctors as vaccine-pushing, tunnel-visioned jerks.

I feel lucky to have my doctor on my side.

So, that’s out of the way and I’m relieved. Relieved that it wasn’t awkward. Relieved that it’s over. Relieved that I don’t have to flash my naked booty at my friend’s husband in the foreseeable future.


When she isn’t subjecting herself to awkward situations, Lindsay Maddox writes about life’s hilarity on her blog Silly Mom Thoughts. She also contributes to My Life Monday on The Balancing Act Blogging Community. You can catch Lindsay on Twitter and Facebook, too.


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