My babies hate going to the doctor. As I place the headpiece I have to gently tuck them in. “It won’t be long,” I soothe.

My babies hiss and wriggle about, but they know it’s for my own good, so eventually they settle down.

As I enter Dr. Galen’s office, I must depend on my senses so I don’t bump into things. The nurse rushes up to guide me.

No one likes me here. I have a bad temper. The last nurse who angered me is now surrounded by flowers in my garden at home. It was the least I could do, make her stone form the centerpiece.

But this nurse seems to care, and I’m grateful for that.

The first gynecologist I visited angered me also. He had said, “let’s see if the carpet matches the drapes!” His statue I donated to a medical school.

Dr. Galen knows better. He is terrified of me, as he should be.

My babies writhe beneath the hood, and I lay back for the exam. It hurts a little and he apologizes.

“That’s it,” he says, snapping off his gloves. “See you next year!”

The nurse helps me dress. I make the appointment, and cannot wait to get home to get this awful hood off.