A phone call to Drew. For those of you who lack ovaries and ladyparts…a Mirena is an IUD.
Me: “Hey, I have a question for you about my Mirena.”
Drew: “Hey, I deal in lungs for a living, so why are you asking me about your vagina.”
Me: *sigh*
Drew: “Okay, okay, what’s wrong?”
Me: “I started developing this weird rash, and I don’t know if it’s related. It started on my elbows, and now it’s spreading to my chest, and it’s itchy.”
Drew: “Send me a picture.”
Me: “That is the WORST way anyone has ever tried to get a picture of my tits.”
Drew: “Megan…any man that was turned on by a woman covered in hives would fall into a SERIOUSLY niche market of pervert. I’m going to show it across to the derm guy across the hall, and get his opinion.”
Me: “Fiiiiine. But you’re going to see the bottom of my bra.”
(sends picture)
Drew: “I don’t think it’s the Mirena, but call your GYN. In the meantime, Benedryl before bedtime, and hydrocortisone on the affected area.”
Me: “I don’t need anything prescription?”
Drew: “I’m not calling you in a prescription unless you send me a picture with a nipple in it.”
Me: “So, that’s a ‘no’ then.”