Did I really need to know that my gynecologist, a woman I love and respect, a woman who got me through loss of all sorts of lady bits, and held my hand through breast cancer, contributed to Rudy freaking Guiliani's presidential campaign?No, I didn't. I discovered it by accident. I was simply looking for her phone number on Google, and up popped a link to one of those websites that tells you who contributed money to which candidate. And there she was...twice...as a contributor to Guiliani. It was almost as shocking as finding out I had breast cancer. And only a little less disheartening.
It can't be someone else with her name. And there can't be a good explanation. There is NO good explanation for supporting America's weaselly Mayor 9/11.
So what do I do? Do I pretend I never saw it, and never speak of it, like the time I accidentally walked in on a male housemate at the beach who was naked? (We were both going to weigh ourselves on the doctor's scale in a dressing room area). Or do I wait until she's about to dive in with her cotton swab to Pap smear me and say, "Hey, speaking of smears..."
I've got three months to figure this out before I see her again. And I will be seeing her again. Like I said, she's a great gynecologist and I couldn't imagine seeing anybody else. Even though I may need therapy to get over the notion that hands that uh, examine me internally--way internally--also may have flipped the lever for McCain, and before that, Bush and before that...ack. Must. stop. thinking.
God, I hope she was wearing latex gloves when she wrote those checks.
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