Treasuring Our Differences
Editor’s Note: This piece was awarded an honorable mention in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”
I dread visits to the gynecologist. Even though I’m a healthcare professional myself—studying to become a physician assistant after years as a clinical-research coordinator—I struggle with the prospect of the impending visit on a deeply personal level.
The crinkly gown, the pressure of the cold speculum and the pinch of the tiny brush that scrapes the cervix. A pap smear was bad enough when I identified as a woman—but as a nonbinary person with gender dysphoria, these visits act as a reminder that I was born into a body I don’t identify with, and I find visits to my gynecologist unbearable.
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