Sometimes you regret saying certain things to your kids, like when you hear that information repeated to their friends in an out-of-context type of way.
Last night Skyler had her little friend over for dinner where she informed her that I had a doctor check my vagina. Now I'm not even going to discuss the fact that this other child is nine years old and didn't know what a vagina was, I'll just focus on the fact that my daughter is giving my medical updates to the neighbors. I'd much rather she discuss my Remicade infusions but, well, at least she knows what she's talking about. She'll be fully informed when SHE gets to go for her yearly girly bits check-up.
Since she's telling the neighbors I'll tell YOU that I finally, after three tries, found a decent doctor and can stop searching and procrastinating. It's no fun going in the first place, but when you hate your doctor, you just find a thousand reasons not to. While I loved the doctor, I did not love when the nurse asked if I had had my first mammogram yet. Turning over-35 sucks in a whole new way. YAY!