Ovarian Torsion Smackdown | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Ovarian Torsion Smackdown | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lynn Kowal
07/07/15
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It was the summer of 1998, and I was on vacation from my position as a Church secretary. My road trip took me down a path that no woman likes to travel, and it began when the British gynecologist, sporting a tight little smile, welcomed me into his office.
Trying against all odds to relax in this austere place, I noticed that there were two male doctors staring at me.
“Ah, Doctor,” I said, working to gain the upper hand, “I think you have it backwards. There is supposed to be a male and a female attendant in the room when a woman is being examined, not two males.”
Clearly rattled, the two doctors looked at each other nervously and then proceeded to explain that after my internal examination, the British OB-GYN would follow with a scholarly review directed towards the audience that would also be in the room.
Before I could calculate just how many people might be looking on, I was hoisted up into the stirrups, whereby the two men then began peering intently, and goodness knows how many others went strolling by.
To distract myself from reality, I worked hard to calculate what admission charge I should apply in order to market myself as an examination haven for future medical generations.
“What we have here,” taught the British OB-GYN to the waiting crowd, “is an ovarian torsion of the third degree - situated on the right ovary which I believe will be best served by a partial lymphoomectomy, performed bilaterally. This is the most efficient way to deal with a woman’s pain.”
I interrupted his soliloquy, “Which of course is based on your vast experience as a woman.”
“Listen,” he sputtered, looking down at me - his British reserve beginning to crack, “I’ve gone to medical school. I know about ovarian torsions.”
The next day, as I was being placed on the operating table, I shivered from the cold and I mentioned this to my dear British friend.
“Well, the operating theatre isn’t exactly a cappuccino bar,” he sighed, “we don’t like to lounge around here very long.”
“In fact,” one of the nurses added, “this is my last operation before I’m headed off to Europe in the morning.”
“You want to trade places?” I joked.
As a final preparation to steady my nerves, I inquired of the group if it were true that surgeons are now using a form of snake venom for the knock-out drug. My doctor decided that he had better indulge me or there would be another irritating question to follow, so he checked with the anesthesiologist.
“Yes, that’s true,” she admitted, explaining the name of drug, while at the same time administering it to me so that I was comatose before I could finish my question.
A few days later, I was at the follow-up appointment, where I mentioned to my dear British Gynecologist that the operating room was a “tough audience.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, never giving up on the tight little smile.
“Well, if they don’t like your jokes,” I answered, “they just knock you out with anesthetic.”
“What joke are you talking about?” he asked, completely abandoning the smile now and looking puzzled.
“Well,” I explained, finally feeling as if I had the winning hand, “I asked you if it were true that snake venom is used as an anesthetic for surgery, and while you were checking with your anesthesiologist, she put me under, and I never got a chance to finish my question.”
“And what I was going to say,” I continued, “was that if you were going to use snake venom, then that would be okay with me because I’m used to snake venom, I work in the Church.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as if a massive headache were coming on, and placating himself with the fact that we would never meet again, he took a deep breath and continued, “Well, I just wanted to let you know that everything went well, and we removed the right ovary.”
Then taking a leap of faith - his reserve totally annihilated by the smile on his face, and feeling that maybe he just might have won our ovarion torsion smackdown of wills - he joked, “as opposed to the wrong one.”

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