It’s that time of year again: No, not the beginning of my holiday shopping season, but that time when I must make my requisite visit to the “Frauenarztin.” (Literally translated, it means “woman doctor” or, you guessed it, the gynecologist.)
I doubt there is a woman on this planet that actually enjoys going to the gynecologist and I am no exception. However, I see it as a necessary evil and therefore I don’t complain too much about going. I just suck it up and go.
Now, it goes without saying that a yearly visit to the gynecologist for any woman is a sensible thing to do. However, my main reason for visiting the Frauenarztin is not really for health reasons: I make my yearly pilgrimage to the gynecologist essentially so that I can get my subscription to The Pill renewed.
Therefore, last week when I realized that my subscription was about gone, I knew that if I don’t want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet any time soon, it was time for a visit to the gynecologist. I always detest making that appointment, but the situation is made somewhat bearable because, luckily, I like my gynecologist.
I have been seeing DrX since my first year in Germany when I randomly picked her name from a list of English-speaking gynecologists in Munich supplied by the American Consulate. She is nice and a quite competent doctor who truly does speak superb English. She and I speak German most of the time during my appointments now, but I find it immensely reassuring to know that if I have a problem or question concerning my most intimate health care needs that I can speak English with her if necessary.
Today when I arrived in DrX’s office I noticed something a little different than the other times I have seen her: I found that I am finally able to do that doctor-patient chit-chat with her in German. In fact, she has been seeing me long enough that she even made a comment about how far my German skills have come since my first appointment.
After our initial chit-chat, I was told to get undressed and then poked, prodded, informed that I was healthy, and then told to get dressed. DrX typed away as we wished each other Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I was feeling mighty good for just coming from the gynecologist until I went to reception to get my prescription.
For as much as I like DrX, she has one flaw: She has a grumpy receptionist. I waited for a couple of minutes for the grumpy receptionist and then when she finally came she was holding a microscope slide in one hand. (I really didn’t want to know what was on that slide!) I told her I needed to pick up my prescription renewal. While holding the slide with one hand, she typed with the other and then informed me that the doctor had not given me a prescription… to which I replied, “But that is why I am here!”
Now as many of you probably know, Germans are sticklers for the rules. Therefore she could not possibly print out my prescription renewal until she had verified it with the doctor. So, microscope slide still in hand, she bustled out of the room and left me standing there wondering if I had overrated my German chit-chat skills. Minutes later the receptionist came back (slide still in hand) and told me that I did indeed have a prescription… Apparently I had made it to the reception desk before DrX could put the necessary information into the computer.
As I stuffed the prescription in my purse, I let out a sigh of relief: Not only do I not have to worry about the pitter-patter of little feet in the near future; I also don’t have to go back to the gynecologist any time soon!
While I got some stitching done on Vash’s robin today, I spent part of my afternoon in the gynecologist’s waiting room and since knitting appears to be a bit more portable than cross stitch, I took the knitting with me to pass the time. 
