Thursday, October 18, 2012

"It's me, Chlamydia!"

Hello kids, gather around.  It’s story time.  Someone suggested I talk about sluts with STDs, but instead I thought I would branch off a bit and share a little tale about the time my gyno convinced me I had Chlamydia.  Before I continue, I would like to make it abundantly clear that I did not, nor have I ever had any other STD.  I still have my clean bill of health letter from my last check up…thinking about framing it actually…
A few years ago I paid my yearly visit to my lady doctor. After the very intrusive pelvic exam, I was half way out the door when she asked me if I had even been tested for Chlamydia.  I said I had been tested for all STDs a couple of years prior, but I had been with the same guy since then so there was no need for another test.  She picked up my form, gave it a long, hard, look and said, “I see you are 28 years old, correct?  That is the prime age for contracting the disease…”  I confirmed my age and repeated that I had only been with the one guy, for several years, in a committed relationship so although I appreciated her concern, my vagina was a OK.  
She then continued, “One in three people has the disease and is completely unaware…”  She proceeded to look at the nurse, look down at herself, and then nod in my direction.  I pretended to miss this less than subtle gesture.
She expand on that fact with, “Most people who have the disease will not have any symptoms…”  I tried to reassure her I was not in fact the whore she thought I was, but it was not getting through.  I knew I should have worn a longer skirt…
It seemed I was not leaving the examining room until I took the test. At this point I figured if this lady really wanted to spend another five minutes in my vagina, I would let her if it got me the hell out of there sooner.
I asked when they would call to let me know I didn’t have Chlamydia since I DID NOT HAVE CHLAMYDIA (those were my exact words), and she informed me they would not be calling me unless the test came back positive…as in no news is good news.
I carried on with my business and headed to California for my vacation as planned.  A few friends and I were out for lunch when my phone rang with an unknown 847 number.  I looked down, thought, “Eh, if it’s important they will leave a message.”  I put my phone down, picked up my Bloody Mary and suddenly turned pale white.  My friends saw the color flee my face and asked what was wrong.  I told them, “I can’t answer.” When they asked why I said, “It’s Chlamydia.”  
I explained the story as my voice mail went off.  They convinced me to check it, and right as I was about to vomit, I heard a lovely message about my dry cleaning needing to be picked up.  Thank God.
The next morning it happened again…a new unmarked number, a new shade of white. I just kept hearing Towlie’s voice from South Park squealing, “It’s me  Chlamydia! Don’t forget to wear a condom!”    It was my eye doctor.  I needed to schedule an appointment.  
Six, yes six more unknown numbers later, I started to lose sleep.  I started thinking of all the people my ex had been with, along with the people they had been with and so on, and FUCKING so on. It seemed never ending.   Three rolls of tums and a full bottle of vodka later, I cracked and called the office, and of course, I was clean. 
To this day my friends in California and I will call each other from random numbers at all hours shouting, “It’s me Chlamydia!”  After all, it’s all fun and games until someone actually gets the STD. 

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