In which our heroine sulks and flounces about.

My appointment yesterday was one of the less pleasant ones that I've had. There was a great deal of probing, both vaginal (old-hat) and anal (novel, if not exactly enjoyable), for various tests (group B strep, gonorrhea, chlamydia). I got to experience the joys of a new type of speculum which made ominous clicking noises as it opened, and for dessert I got a cervical check, which was unpleasant and uninformative enough that I'll probably have to politely decline the next one offered. (for what it's worth, I'm dilated to 1 cm and 20% effaced, but both of these numbers are apparently meaningless for determining anything at all). James is just fine - head down, good heart beat, growing properly.

I like my doctor, but I occasionally wonder why I have to go to so many of these damned appointments. There's basically nothing that they do that seems necessary. Over the past several visits, they've done the following:

• Checked for gonorrhea, chlamydia, syphilis, and HIV. I understand that these are all terribly serious issues, but this is the third time in the last six months that I've been checked for them. What's the point in cutting down on the gangbangs and heroin binges if they're just going to poke me with needles and giant swabs again anyway?
  
• Checked Jim's heartbeat and confirm that he's still alive and kicking. I could've told them that - the little monster douchebag tyke beats on my innards all day long.
  
• Checked my weight. I've got a scale here, and it likes me better than theirs does (7 pounds in two weeks, you say? Dirty lies, I say.)
  
• Gave me an ultrasound. Okay, they get a pass for that one.
  
• Checked my cervix. The numbers are interesting and all, but as I understand it (and as the doctor told me after checking), it's all pretty meaningless. I could go into labor without being dilated at all, or I could walk around at 4 cm for six weeks. Seems kind of pointless (as well as extremely painful - I can only be grateful that my doctor is a tiny little woman and not some 6'8" lumberjack who discovered his love for obstetrics late in life).
  
• Did a group B strep test. Okay, that one's kind of important too, but I'm of the understanding that it can be done with swabs at home where I don't need to be tortured with a giant clicking death-speculum.
  
• Made me pee in a cup. They've never gotten any useful information out of it, but it does make me feel extremely skillful, so I'll count this one as a wash.
  

So, anyway, my point is that I hate going to the doctor for any reason other than adorable chubby-cheeked ultrasound prints. Have I mentioned that I'm now supposed to start going weekly? *sob*