WARNING:  This post deals with genitals, potentially upsetting descriptions of said bits, and bad language.  There is a possibility you may get grossed out reading it.  Also, I'm not a doctor, so don't  take this as medical advice.

A few years back, when I was a bit dumber and less aware of what yogurt can do for a yeast infection, I came down with a case of the itchy-scratchies. The feminine products aisle has always given me at least one thing to laugh at; the best find being condoms with sticky tape pads to help men with less-than-average width keep the condom on. I wandered over to the section of boxes with smiling women on the front, and exhortations of "Less mess", "Shorter treatment time". "It'll make your vagina sing a happy dance". I spied a new product, Vagistat, which gave me the option to "Treat your problem overnight". Ooooh, I remember thinking, only one night in the granny panties, how sweet now GIMME.

That night, I sat in the bathroom and read the instructions thoroughly. "Wash hands before using this products." Duh. "If you have ever had a reaction to any of the products contained in this medicine, do not use." Okay, I'm skippy-dippy clear on that one. "If product causes irritation, redness, or swelling, discontinue use and see a physician." Yeah. I didn't know that product warnings contained the literary device of foreshadowing, but that's exactly what that line turned out to be.

Product insertion went well, and I did a quick step from the bathroom onto the bed to avoid any leakage.  About 15 minutes later, I found myself thinking, "Yeah, THAT does NOT feel RIGHT." The itchy-scratchy had turned into fire ants in the pants, and I bolted back for the bathroom to practice reverse Kegels and remedy my situation with the judicious application of refrigerated witch hazel.

It was an uncomfortable night, and I woke the next morning with the sensation that things were somehow off down there. Tromping in to the bathroom, I discovered that I had grown testicles. Not just any testicles, but enormous, swollen, puffy, blistered...things. Have you ever seen a picture of the surface of Mars, with pits and craters, volcanoes and mountains, and everywhere the surface is screaming red? That's what I had, and now that I had seen it, the pain kicked in.

6am on a Sunday morning in my town does not give one a lot of options for medical care. In fact, it gives you only one. I and the other half tromped off to the emergency room, product box and insurance card in hand. 6 am on a Sunday morning in the ER does get you in a room right quick. The Saturday night drunken car wreck casualties have been treated, and the "Gotta get in a round of golf before church" heart attacks have not yet shown up.

Dr. Dick pops in and states, "So I hear you're having some female issues." Uh-oh. I had carefully explained to the triage nurse that my labia were golf balls of blisters and goo, yet this guy has decided I've got "female issues"? After I deliver a rundown of my problems using big medical words like vagina, medication, blistering, allergic reaction and chemical burns, Dr. Dick takes a quick look at the hoo-hoo and launches his eyebrows off his face. He tells my other half to step out of the room, and I am instantly subjected to a rude-voiced, aggressive inquisition regarding my sexual history back through kindergarten when I kissed a boy named Abe. He informs the nurse I should be given a Benadryl to help with "the problem" and heads out the door.

Apparently, when Dr. Dick stepped out the door, he proceeded to violate every confidentiality guideline on the planet by interrogating the other half in front of staff, patients and their families. Sentences like "You had to have cheated on her, now just tell me you have herpes", "She's got a classic raging case of herpes, now tell me if she got it from you" and "You're not lying to me about not sleeping around on her, are you?" are stated, and now the entire ER is aware of my "female issues". Fuh-king suh-weet.

Within 15 minutes, the Benadryl has returned my bits to a normal size, and the weeping from the blistering is already starting to subside. Dr. Dick returns to the room and informs me (without virtue of blood tests, much less a herpes culture or titer being ordered) I'm having my first herpes outbreak. The nurse, who has been paying more attention to my bits than doc has, informs him in the nurse-trying-to-save-face voice that "Perhaps you should take another look, Doctor. The Benadryl has helped A LOT." The doc, probably not unused to hearing that voice, peeks under the gown and his eyebrows again fly off his face. "Gee, maybe you don't have herpes. There's no way Benadryl would do that if you did." Yeah, welcome to the knowledge party, Doc. You're the last guest to arrive.

He orders another dose of Benadryl, and since I'm having "female issues", kicks out with a dose of Valium for the hysteria he's sure I'll be having soon. I take the Valium, knowing that it won't hold off my filing a complaint but it sure will keep my from shoving a speculum into his unmentionables. A several hour stay is suggested to observe my progress (observation which consists of him coming in twice to ask how things are going "down there"). In a true sign of Doc-done-fucked-up, the nurse actually apologizes for his behavior, and uses the term dickhead in her descriptors of his attitude.

The hoo-hoo has long returned to complete normalcy.  I am forever leery of vaginal medications, and have learned that there are other options for yeast infections.  Doc had a written complaint filed about him, resulting in a reprimand and I've since worked with several nurses that have had run-ins with him.  Apparently he was fired a few years back, and I smiled for several hours after I heard that.

Ladies, while we're exhorted to be careful about the penis we let near our vaginas, we should also be cautious about the medications we permit there as well.  Don't let chemical burns happen to a hoo-hoo near you.

http://altmedicine.about.com/od/healthconditionsqtoz/a/yeast_infection.htm

Tags: vagina, yeast infection, otc meds, when bad docs go worse, ouch

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