The blog I wasn’t sure I was going to post, but did!

A good friend of mine said to me just before I left ‘enjoy your experiences’. What he and I did not realise at the time was that everything was/is going to be an experience it seems, even the mundane things such as going to the doctors. The reason I wasn’t sure if I was going to post this blog is because it is a little bit personal but I think for amusement factor alone this is worth putting up.

So having settled in OK to this great and good land something was bound to have a bit of a tizzy whilst I am out here and that thing was my period… as it stopped.  There is an obvious conclusion to all of this however it is impossible, unless it was immaculate, which again is highly doubtful. My brain playing the tricks it does nearly managed to convince me that the dream I had of being attacked wasn’t a dream, which was actually quite scary. So on the thirteenth morning of waking up in a grump and having spoken to my sister I finally decided to do something and go to a gynaecologist.

So off I pop to the doctor’s office and I am invited into the doctor’s room, with three other patients sat next to me, one on the examination table, the doctor and three helpers all in a room that is quite frankly not big enough to hold that many people in plus a desk, a cupboard and a sink. I am then asked what the problem is and I look around and I am wondering if I should try and articulate this in front of a room of people I don’t know when I realise no one can understand me anyway.  So I start going into the issue. The obvious conclusion was drawn upon to which I was adamant that was not the case; I just needed to be checked out if there were any problems.

She did try and protect my dignity a little by asking the other patients out of the room when it came to the examination as there is just a curtain between you and quite a few other people and the patients bustled out of the office. (Roll forward a few minutes) I then jumped off the table to find everyone back in the room whilst trying to pull my giant trousers up and she asks if I’m shy! ‘No it’s fine’ I said with a little smile, what I was actually thinking was ‘well it’s a bit bleedin’ late now they’re already back in here’. There is an explanation as to why they came back in, in the fact that the doctor said one minute to the other patients and they took it literally. I have found people don’t like to wait very long around here, so obviously they had bustled back in after ‘ek minute’. 

The next examination was strange to say the least, I was told to sit back on the table and one of the helpers approached me and started pulling up my tops. Strange I thought but I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, perhaps check my abdomen again, or listen to my heart. She then proceed to squeeze my nipples! It was quite frankly the last thing I expected to happen. I’m not sure what ‘I’m going to squeeze your nipples now’ is in Hindi but I was not given a warning shot that’s for sure.

So then to the great and good paperwork, this is India, there has to be paperwork. Question one on the paperwork was my name, the second is my husband’s name. Bearing in mind this was the third time I was asked I relented and made one up, actually it was the first name that came to mind. So I am now married and my imaginary husband has an amazing job according to me, well why not he doesn’t actually exist!

I am very pleased to confirm that the obvious isn’t so obvious and it’s probably due to a bit of stress/foreign climate/me being me, so all in all I am fine. Only in India can I go to the doctors, get my problem sorted, find a new guardian (she is lovely and offered me help whenever I need it here), get married and have my nipples squeezed for the bargain price of £0.83!