Over 30 years ago, I had a slight scare when some of the cells on my cervix came back suspicious in a routine pap test. So I had cryotherapy, in which my abnormal cervical cells were destroyed by freezing with liquid carbon dioxide. The timing of that procedure was a tad inconvenient, though, because a few days later, I moved to a different state, and needed to find a new doctor to follow up on the procedure. Coincidentally, the night before my re-check at the new medical facility, I discovered a small breast lump. I was so relieved that I was going to the doctor the next morning anyway.

So when I met the new gynecologist in a less-than- dignified manner, stark naked under a whisper-thin paper gown designed to cover maybe 1/5th of an average woman’s body, I asked her if she could also check the breast lump that I discovered the night before. Her response absolutely stunned me.

She informed me that this particular visit was only for a re-check of the prior procedure, and that I’d have to make another appointment to return on a different day for a breast exam. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. After all, I was already there and conveniently exposed anyway under that tiny gown, and yet she was telling me that I would have to climb down off the table, get dressed, go down the hall to make another appointment, then drive back on a different day? Are you kidding me?

At that point in my life, I hadn’t yet mastered the art of advocating for myself, and meekly acquiesced, but by the time I had arrived back home, I was fuming. What was this doctor thinking? So I took out my new ‘portable’ Apple computer, about the size of a small child back then, and proceeded to write her a letter expressing my dismay that she couldn’t take the one minute it would have required to check it, but instead made me live with the stress and anxiety of finding a lump, only to have to return another day.

I’d like to say that that was the only negative health experience I had upon arriving in my new city, but alas, there was more. Stay tuned for the next installment in Part 2 of this real (cough choke) page-turner . . .