About five years ago, I got an IUD. Because of my particular anatomy, plus also because I have never had a baby, getting the little plastic gizzie installed was a complete ordeal. I was stretched on the traditional, Medieval gynaecological rack, with three or four med students peeking in on the proceedings, and witnessing a doctor more or less lose her shit in frustration with the whole ordeal.
I felt like a stalled out public works project, and the whole experience was kind of traumatizing.
It came as a welcome relief that the removal was totally a non-event. Yeah, there was the expected speculum-related unpleasantness, but the rest of it was no worse than the usual fanny-inspection.
My doctor asked me if I wanted to see the old IUD, and I was like, “well heck…sure.”
My imagination had conjured up the image of an abandoned shopping cart that has been dredged up from the bottom of a pond, all rusty and dripping with weeds and algae with discarded shopping bags entangled in the wheels.
I was pleasantly surprised to observe that 5 years’ service had not appreciably weathered the Device at all.
Wow – my condolences on the insertion ordeal – I think I would have been climbing the walls. I’m so glad the removal was less involved. I absolutely HATE my yearly exams – the older I get, the more I hate them.