Bowling Dreams & Cheap Wine

Chapter 4

I sit in the chair and move my gaze over the selection of magazines and pamphlets on the coffee table. Picking up one of the magazines, I cock my head at the title.

You're Aging Vagina

I stare hard and squint, speaking softly what this actually says. "You are aging Vagina." I shake my head. "You are aging, Vagina?" Fingers crossed I will not to alert the grammar police. I'm no word snob, I didn't even go to college, but the mistake is gnawing at my stomach.

"Gwen?" the nurse calls from the doorway.

"Here," I say like this is school and make my way down the hall. She has me step on the scale. I'm up another couple of pounds. She takes my height. "Did I shrink?" I ask noting I'm just below 5'8" now.

"It happens." She records the new height and points to the restroom for me to give a pee sample.

That, I can do. Something happened to my bladder after childbirth. The muscles just gave up.

The nurse is not very chatty when I meet her in the hall, so I don't bring up the You're Aging Vagina thing and keep quiet that my height shrinking is a sign of pre-menopause. Please, God no.

I'm ushered into the cattle stall of stirrups and paper gowns I'm still not sure which way is worn front or back.

Now, seated on the exam table, my legs dangling, I wait.

I wait a little more.

The door opens and my fresh-faced, clean-shaven, tall doctor with envious smooth brown skin and beautiful dark eyes enters. His gaze shoots to mine.

I close my legs.

Holy Shit. Hot doctor alert.

I should have shaved the hedge.

"Gwen," he says, eyeing me and quickly looks to the open laptop in his hand. "I'm Doctor Bhatt. I don't think I've seen you before."

"Did you just say something?" It's all I can manage as I fix my gown around my thighs but pull too hard and the material tears rips. Oops.

"How are you today?" he asks, setting the laptop down. He reads the screen and I take the opportunity to study his face. He's not just-out-of-medical school but more distinguished looking. I put him in his early 40's. No wedding ring. Check. I don't usually do the wedding ring check anymore, it just happened because he's sitting in front of me and I can't not look. I look again.

He nods and we chat for a few minutes, my heart racing every time he asks me a question. Stay cool, Gwen, even though we're discussing if my periods are normal. Doctor Bhatt's voice is calm and reassuring, he flashes me a frown as I finish telling him that I'm sure there's something wrong with my hormones, because it's hot in here. He types the information in the laptop and stands. "Let me get the nurse." He goes for the door. "We'll get started in a sec."

He's back with the nurse in seconds and gets right to the exam. He begins by asking me to lay back and starts up top, asking me questions, and I'm trying to think of something clever to say. "You should come up with a manual for what happens to the female body at my age."

"You're still young." His gaze hits my eyes, but his voice is practiced like he's said this a hundred times. I know when the doctors stop saying this that I've crossed into a new age group. He moves his hands below my belly button, pressing his hands here and there. "What advice would you like us to include if we had a manual?" he asks as a friendly follow-up, the non-smiling nurse hovering in the background.

"Less medical terminology. Something simple like, Shit Changes."

He cracks a laugh. It's a beautiful sound. Deep and real. If laughs can be handsome, his wins that award. "It has some marketing flaws, but it's honest."