It’s taken me 11 months to write about this event.
You see, the story that I’m about to share with you all is so awkward – so mind numbingly cringeworthy – I pushed it way, way down into the recesses of my mind.
I still shudder when I walk into a doctor’s office.
I can’t look my own mother in the eye.
The sight of a urine sample cup is enough to make me curl into the foetal position.
And now that we’re about to embark upon the tale that covers THE WORST DAY IN MY LIFE LIKE EVER, I’m hoping that you will be kind.
Okay. Here we go.
So once upon a time, on a rainy March morning, I was in the throes of what my GP called ‘acute glandular fever with a liver and kidney infection’. I was sweaty. I was an odd shade of grey. And I looked like something you’d find deep within a drainpipe.
While I had all the run-of-the-mill symptoms you get with glandge (sore throat, a general desire to die), I had recently developed a weird ailment: persistent, annoying, hideously ugly eye infections.
Not a huge fan of this eye sitch, I visited my GP every day for a week, demanding new eye drops and medication. "IT ISN'T WORKING," I'd yell, catching falling pus in my hands. "THE GOO IS MULTIPLYING."
By day seven, my right eye was completely closed over, and my left was about as functional as a wet sock. My depth perception was screwed - I couldn't pour the milk into my morning bowl of cereal, let alone drive to my next doctor appointment.
I was about to come up with the stupidest, dumbest, most regrettable solution in all of human history.
"All good - I'll just ask Mum to drive me."
Mum obliged because she is a magical lady from the far away forest of Narnia, and off we went. Me, the temporarily blind daughter and her, the utterly concerned parent.
When we arrived, Mum had to guide me into the little boxy room which meant OF COURSE she sat beside me. But OF COURSE that was okay, because OF COURSE this was going to be like every other doctors appointment I've had, where I leave with a fresh box of eye drops, right?
... Right?
... Guys?
"Just another eye infection!" I immediately told the Doctor as I plonked down. "Probably just need more eye drops! Ha ha ha! So weird this keeps happening to me."
And then, without absolutely any warning, I get hit with this:
"Michelle, how many sexual partners have you had?"
Wait. Excuse me. What?
"Um. Sorry? I don't kn - I mean, um, I think... I think it's... wait - no - um...." as Mum's breathing grew faster and louder.
Welllllllll shit. This isn't like every other doctor appointment at all is it? Just say the PG version, I thought. Say the PG version. Good. Great. Okay. You're blind and your mum now knows how many people you've had sex with (... kind of). Keep calm. The worst is over. It simply cannot get worse than this.
"I think you have chlamydia of the eye. We'll have to do a test."
Okay then! Just look at that! Things just got waaaaaaay worse! Diabolically worse!
Before you can say "Aw, you have an STD in your eye, sweetie!" my mum was hoisting me up, pee cup in tow, and we were marching towards the clinic's bathrooms.
(I cannot tell you how difficult it is to pee into a small cup when you're blind. It took 15 minutes. I got about a teaspoon worth.)
"We'll let you know in four working days," the pee cup collector lady later told me with a smile, oblivious to the fact that MY MUM NOW KNOWS I POTENTIALLY HAVE AN STD IN MY EYE.
I tell ya what, you have not experienced awkwardness until you've experienced 'my mum thinks I have chlamydia of the eye' awkwardness.
What followed was 24 hours of intense silence, before my blindness sitch got so bad we made a trip to the local hospital's emergency room.
While sitting in front of four perplexed health care professionals, I thought it'd be the perfect time to come out with it: "Don't worry, you guys. It's probably not that bad, I think I just have chlamydia of the eye."
One of the student doctors actually exploded into laugher. "You think you have... what?!"
I peed into more cups. Every doctor that treated me for the rest of the day had to hold back giggle fits.
Wanna know the good thing about the emergency department? Their STD tests take four hours - not four days.
My results?
"You have a bacterial eye infection. You most definitely do not have chlamydia. To be completely honest, we've never even heard of someone having 'chlamydia of the eye'."
"Right." I told myself, making a mental note to switch GPs IMMEDIATELY. "Well this has been... an experience."
I honestly think I have chlamydia-of-the-eye related PTSD, you guys. Life after that appointment has never been the same.
Let this be a lesson to you, reader friends: Never - and I mean never - let your mum take you to a doctor appointment. EVEN WHEN YOU'RE BLIND.
For more from Michelle Andrews, follow her on Facebook.
Top Comments
From the buildup I thought we were going to be told that her Mum was in the room while the doctor performed a rectal examination.
Shock, horror! Your mother knows you have had sex. Perhaps a touch of growing up is in order here, not joking about serious mental illnesses like PTSD. Do you know how bad of a situation you have had to have been in to get PTSD? I have friends who have developed PTSD because they were in situations where they had to shoot and kill people, while those people were trying to shoot and kill them. That's how you get PTSD. Not from having your mum in the room while the doctor asks a personal question.
So as someone who actually HAS PTSD as compared to say someone like you who knows people who have it, can i say that this did not upset me or offend me at all.
May i suggest pulling out the stick you have stuck up your ass, learning to lighten up and maybe not take life so seriously. It must be very draining spending your time being upset about an article that was meant to make people laugh.
Gosh, aren't you pleasant, Danii?
Urgh I don't get why people get so embarrassed over the fact that their parents know that they are having sex. Like you have to be pretty immature and shouldn't be having sex if it embarrasses you so much.
I do feel that there is a difference between your parents knowing you have sex and knowing the more intricate details of it though. You know, privacy.
Regardless of my own modest number, I know my mother would give me her endless opinion about it. She even thought it was too soon the first time I stayed at my partner's house. I was 35. We'd been dating for 2 solid months! Yep, she has a few issues.
In the author's shoes, I'd have asked to have the conversation with the doctor privately once ushered in. You just never know where the conversation is going to go. What if the doctor got a reminder pop up about your pap smear being over/due and you decided to do it on the spot? It happens.
Of course it can be embarrassing for your parents to know. I'm 30 and still live at home. I lie to my parents and say I'm staying at a girlfriends house when I want a sleepover at a boys. Haha.