I sit on the Table butt naked in my sweater dress with my legs dangling over the edge. I have been waiting for what seems like hours but is probably more like 45 minutes. My palms are sweaty from my nerves and my Anxiety Increases with every passing minute. I try to busy my mind in order to keep from thinking of what is about to come but all I can think about is how odd it is that there are actually people out there who are comfortable walking around in incredibly short dresses without wearing any underwear, or barely covering underwear, on a daily basis. Maybe it’s just me but I do not even want my bare bottom touching the paper on this table let alone possibly touching the seat of a non-covered chair. In order to take my mind off of other girls and their possible infections, I begin counting the amount of animals I can find in the animal-filled poster by the door. I get to 28 and then forget which ones I have already counted for the fourth time and start again.

Finally, the door opens and the Doctor Walks in. Now, I have been getting pap smears since I was seventeen and although I have never been particularly fond of them they are usually over fairly quickly and the pain is generally quite temporary. The doctor walks in and greets me in a sweet tone. She puts on her gloves (as my anxiety increases), tells me to lie back on the table and put my feet in the stirrups, and then she gets to work as she asks me the typical meaningless questions like, “Where do you go to school?” and “What is your major?”

I immediately tense up as the Cold Metal hits me down below. Apparently to her surprise, the questions she had been throwing out one after the other failed to distract me from the pain caused by the tools she is using to pry open my vagina. The second I tense up she withdraws pushing her chair back 2 feet, and throws the tools down and her hands up as she shouts, “I cannot work under these conditions!”

I am shocked. I have no idea what to say so I just lay there as she continues, “Perhaps today is just not your day! No wonder last time they just got dead cells! You are completely unwilling to cooperate! Unbelievable!”

I do not think that any day will be my day to go to the gynecologist. I had no idea that she could just decide not to work with you like that because it might not “be your day” to get felt up by some careless doctor. I begin to tear up and then literally result to begging her to try again. This is completely humiliating as if it were not humiliating enough already. Fortunately, she sighs and mumbles under her breath, “I’ll try just once more, but if you do not cooperate, I’m done. I’ll try the smaller tool.” Why she was not using the smaller tool in the first place I will never understand. It should be written in my file, “VIRGIN! USE SMALL TOOL!” That might clear things up a bit.

I feel the cold metal touch me once more and once again I involuntarily tense up. She groans but presses on recklessly anyway. I can literally feel her irritation and anger coat the room. By the time she is done tears are streaming down my face. The only thing she says to me is, “Get dressed” as she leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. I begin to sob, partially because I am in more pain than I have ever been in from just a routine pap smear and partially because I feel so mistreated. I walk out to my car and can barely get into the driver’s seat, as the pain is so terrible. I just sit and cry for a while before finally driving home.

I cannot say that I do not understand what it is like to be frustrated with a client. I have worked with drug-addicted females between the ages of 12 and 18. Believe me, I have had many days where I wanted to back 2 feet away and throw my hands up in the air and refuse to”work under such conditions”. But, I never have. Why? Firstly, because I have more respect for my clients than that. Secondly, because even though I spend day after day doing the same thing with clients who hate me, who scream at me, and who disrespect me time and time again, I still have Compassion and I still have an undying Passion for what I do. So on days such as this, where I am treated by a professional in such a heartbreaking way, I think of my clients and I remind myself to never let my compassion fade and to never allow my passion to burn out. For any professionals out there in fields where your clients trust you and look to you to help them in some way, I hope you can find a way to nurture your feelings of compassion and passion so that at the very least, you can make it through the workday without causing more harm than good.