The Harmless Thoughts of a London Gynecologist
“There’s tenderness then?”
“Not bad, Doctor.”
“But you closed your eyes.”
“I did. I closed my eyes.”
“Then there’s tenderness.”
“A little tender, yes.”
“If you refuse to cooperate, I can’t be expected to help you,” says Delk.
Then, as he fixes her chair, repositioning the stirrups, putting her in a harsher dorsal posture, a bit of gynecological theatrics meant simply to say You’re with a man who can hurt you for your own good, she answers, “I’ll try to do better, I really will.”
To which he answers, “All we ask is your best, dear. Your best is all we require.”
The blades of the speculum are warm to the touch. He can feel their warmth through his gloves as he moistens them with lubricant from a poorly rolled tube. He holds them to the light, closes the blades, and adjusts the nickel tappet. Then he returns the speculum; a medium bivalve Graves, then moves the cart to where he can reach it with ease as he begins the procedure.
