The Gyne Weed


I think most of us have a rather Schadenfreude relationship with weeds: on the one hand, they are undesirables, illegal aliens usurping land otherwise dedicated to something useful; but on the other, some of them are quite pretty -even beautiful. Especially in someone else’s garden. Of course it’s all a matter of context, isn’t it? It’s a weed here, but not there -a productive member of one society attempting, uninvited, to switch allegiance to another. In a way, you have to admire their resourcefulness and courage. It must take a lot of self-confidence to show up where you’re not wanted and then make a success of it.

Weeds, however, are not often seen as courageous –quite the opposite: they insinuate themselves into an unsuspecting and vulnerable population and spread dissent. They’re obvious targets for discrimination. Persecution. They are generally regarded as anathema everywhere they go. Period.

I am more ecumenical when it comes to weeds, however. As a male gynaecologist, I too am in foreign soil; I too am a weed. But the idea never occurred to me at the beginning of my career. I thought anybody was welcome to grow there.

And then I met Suzy. I liked her as soon as I saw her in my rather under-populated waiting room. She would have stood out even in a full one. With pig-tailed, red-brown hair, face done up in freckles and a toothy smile, I was immediately reminded of Anne of Green Gables. But she was rather short and plump and was wearing severe black clothes that belied her expression and said ‘Back off’.

And yet we’re all a study in contrasts aren’t we? At that time, I had a mop of long curly brown hair that barely covered the single earring in my left ear. Oh yes, and a reddish beard that fought with the hair for attention. Looking back those many years, I’m surprised the Department even hired me. Equal opportunity stuff, I guess. But I digress.

Suzy did not seem at all surprised when she saw me walking across the empty waiting room to greet her. In fact, she seemed almost relieved at being seen before her appointment time. Well, perhaps ‘curious’ describes it better.

When her eyes interrogated mine for the reason, I muttered something about the last patient not showing up. Actually, the last three had not showed up either, but I wasn’t going to admit that to her. Her eyes then toured my body and flitted back to rest in their little cages, twinkling at their efforts.

“These things happen, doctor,” she said to break the tension, but I could tell she understood.

“So why did you come to see me, Suzy?” I said as she settled down in an uncomfortable wooden chair across from the desk in my office.

This seemed to take her by surprise. It was if there were preliminaries that hadn’t been observed before settling in for business. Like the weather, I suppose –or maybe what she did for a living. “I’m an actress,” she said as if I’d asked the question. I nodded politely and put on a fresh smile to show her I found that interesting. She studied my reaction for a moment and then settled back into the chair as if she could make it more comfortable. “I try to take on roles that challenge me…Challenge Society…” She left the sentence dangling for some reason. “You know, gender stuff…” Another dangle.

“I see,” I said to show that I was listening, but I wasn’t sure why she was telling me this.

“I’m a lesbian,” she suddenly blurted out, and checked my face to see if she had shocked me. It was a time before people were as open and proud of it as they are today.

I have to say I blushed at her honesty, but I wasn’t shocked and she could tell. A huge grin exploded on her face and I could see her snuggle further into the chair. “So, I’ve never had sex with a man…” She stared at me in obvious defiance, and then relaxed into the the smile once more. “But my GP insists I have another pap smear.”

I sat back in my own more comfortable chair and put down my waiting pen. “Did you tell your GP you are a lesbian?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You kidding?” I sat up straighter. “Our whole family goes to see her. She even delivered my younger brother. So, even though I’m twenty-four, I know she’d tell my parents.” She blinked as if she couldn’t believe my naïveté. My innocence. “We live in a small town, doctor. There’s religion bubbling up everywhere. Serious religion!” She smiled and looked out the window for a moment. “That’s why I asked to see someone in the city…” She thought about it for a minute or two, wondering whether or not to elaborate, I suppose.

Then she locked eyes with mine again. “I’m a weed, doctor. They don’t want anybody like me to take root there; I’d endanger their carefully cultivated crop of souls… Spread the seed…”

I hadn’t thought about gender preference like that before -or more accurately, I hadn’t thought much about it at all. I suppose it must have shown in my expression because she immediately smiled again. This time, mischievously. The twinkle was back in her eyes, and a dimple I hadn’t seen before suddenly appeared in one cheek. “We’re both weeds though, aren’t we doctor? We both crossed a line somewhere.” She sighed and straightened up. “I think I just needed to tell someone who’d understand.”

My expression must have reassured her she was right because she immediately started to button up her coat. “I agree there’s probably no rush to do a pap smear, Suzy…But what should I tell your GP?”

Suzy shrugged and stood up. “You’ll think of something, doctor. Weeds are nothing if not resourceful.” She hesitated before going through the door, looked over her shoulder, and winked at me conspiratorially. “Tell her I wouldn’t let you. Maybe I’ll get her to do it -after all, I’ve already sewn the seed…”

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