My gynecologist is a man. An over 50 man.
He's a very good doc. He's been caring for me and my parts for 23 years now, and given that everything still functions as it should, I'd have to say he knows his stuff.
He humors me, puts me at ease with petty concerns over aging, and generally keeps me on an even keel with regard to all things gynecological.
The one thing he doesn't get, and won't ever get, is being a woman.
He's got the science and medical part down cold. He can identify/treat/resolve any fertility or gynecological issue that might arise. And they do arise from time to time.
He can throw procedures and medication around like nobody's business.
But when you tell him, 'Dr. F., I'm just feeling odd. There's nothing amiss, medically. My life isn't in turmoil, I'm just feeling odd. Kind of emotional, you know?'
This will elicit from him a knowing frown, he'll rub his chin, look in my eyes (no doubt ensuring both my pupils are responding as expected and there's nothing evidently amiss at a glance), and come up with something sweet but terribly unhelpful like, 'Have you been taking your vitamins? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you exercising regularly?'
Right.
What he needs to learn, like most men need to learn, is that when women are PMSing (and we'll deny it all the way to the bank out of some misplaced need to be strong in a modern era where we can manufacture microscopic machines that can solve huge problems and where a simple, hormonally driven fragility seems out of place...) they need comfort.
What does that look like?
A steak. Charred rare on the grill. Served with a deep, dark, lovely glass of red wine and a BIG salad with a sour citrus dressing and lots of avocado. And something chocolate and creamy for dessert. Then a hug, maybe a foot rub, but mostly closeness.
See, in spite of living in a world where we've cracked some of life's bigger issues, being at the mercy of our hormones makes us need TLC, even when we refuse to directly ask for it.
You have to intuit that we need it, then dish it up with love, patience and a great deal of respect.
I'm just sayin'.
He's a very good doc. He's been caring for me and my parts for 23 years now, and given that everything still functions as it should, I'd have to say he knows his stuff.
He humors me, puts me at ease with petty concerns over aging, and generally keeps me on an even keel with regard to all things gynecological.
The one thing he doesn't get, and won't ever get, is being a woman.
He's got the science and medical part down cold. He can identify/treat/resolve any fertility or gynecological issue that might arise. And they do arise from time to time.
He can throw procedures and medication around like nobody's business.
But when you tell him, 'Dr. F., I'm just feeling odd. There's nothing amiss, medically. My life isn't in turmoil, I'm just feeling odd. Kind of emotional, you know?'
This will elicit from him a knowing frown, he'll rub his chin, look in my eyes (no doubt ensuring both my pupils are responding as expected and there's nothing evidently amiss at a glance), and come up with something sweet but terribly unhelpful like, 'Have you been taking your vitamins? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you exercising regularly?'
Right.
What he needs to learn, like most men need to learn, is that when women are PMSing (and we'll deny it all the way to the bank out of some misplaced need to be strong in a modern era where we can manufacture microscopic machines that can solve huge problems and where a simple, hormonally driven fragility seems out of place...) they need comfort.
What does that look like?
A steak. Charred rare on the grill. Served with a deep, dark, lovely glass of red wine and a BIG salad with a sour citrus dressing and lots of avocado. And something chocolate and creamy for dessert. Then a hug, maybe a foot rub, but mostly closeness.
See, in spite of living in a world where we've cracked some of life's bigger issues, being at the mercy of our hormones makes us need TLC, even when we refuse to directly ask for it.
You have to intuit that we need it, then dish it up with love, patience and a great deal of respect.
I'm just sayin'.
I hear ya... While I'm still a "fetus" as stephanie ,likes to say, there are times that being run down, especially certain times of the month get ya... and you're right! They don't get it... LOL
ReplyDeleteLove the analogy of what your comfort looks like though. :)