The pill helps make a more sexually responsible adult out of you. It just does. I also know it's used to stabilize other medical conditions, so that's cool. And I think it's an important, amazing assistant we have access to for strengthening women's health. But the pill does come with more responsibility than simply making a mental note to spit-swallow it everyday. There is a health accountability that actually increases preventative screenings. The yearly girly test I call it. The fine doctor you choose inspects all the lady things to make sure they are in tip-top working order. Your inside cells and your outside boobs. Both, muy importante.
Whether you're taking the pill or not, ladies please get annual pap smears. It's a really important, easy thing you can do that helps keep one type of cancer off your list. Although fuck I hate that name. It sounds like some rejected cream cheese you'd find at the back of a bagel shop. hrmph, medical community, get on that. The process goes, while you're in the carnival stirrups, they gather cells from your cervix to test for abnormalities that could highlight pre-cancerous changes. These changes are caused by the over 150 types of HPV virus' that are present in oodles of women. While most varieties are harmless and will be fought off by your own cell army, about 12 are creepy lurkers. They gradually corrupt the good cells by turning them nasty. When untreated, will lead to cervical cancer. But the great news - it's a slow grower, so wiping them out when first diagnosed is totally doable. As long as you visit your doc MD. See! easy peasy.
If you're on the pill, you must have this test once a year in order to get your prescription. If you're not, I think you get it once every few years. Which I guess you and your doctor would figure out the best schedule for your body. But personally, I don't understand why the US doesn't offer more preventative screenings for younger people. The paps, the mamms, the colons etc... We would be such a healthier bunch of birds. But I digress; This post isn't about the politics - just know I think the policy blows.
The first 7 years were all smiley face letters, until the 8th where I got a phone call instead. I was about 23 and that phone call was the start of my long history with the abnormality ghost. I call it a ghost because it's not visible to the naked eye, but can be just as scary. The doctor said the test showed irregular results, but I needn't worry because many factors can affect them. See the HPV link, as well as stress or even having sex close to test day. She also said given my young age and no known family history of cervical cancer, it wasn't of concern yet. But she wanted to monitor the changes so I needed to go every 6 months. This back and forth returned normal, abnormal, kinda more abnormal, normal, normal, back to abnormal, etc for many years. In the beginning I was worried but that eventually led to apathy. Just another test that was inconclusive, so who cares right? My body is just going through some things, so give it space okay? And like she'd let me know if I should see a specialist... Three years ago is when that conversation happened.
That 8th test came back as being positive for "High-grade squamous intraepithelial lesions (HSILs.)" SEXY! There is a scale within that too, from moderate to severe to like honey, let's get you prepped for surgery. Mine was a mix of CIN 1 mild dysplasia (dysplasia is the changing of your cells) with like high grade something else, which meant the cells were considering cancer in a couple years, but hadn't booked any tickets yet. Doc referred me to a highly regarded OBGYN, who I guess is awesome at both babies and girly parts.
I went in and discussed the previous diagnosis. She suggested being re-tested by her to confirm those findings. Sure, why not. This isn't kids stuff so I better fucking know what I'm dealing with instead of speculating. There was poking and prodding and spurts of intense uncomfortableness, looking and scraping and writing. A few weeks later, Travis and I were called to her office, which by doctors standards is never "I just wanted to see your pretty face." She confirmed the re-test came back positive yet again.
In order to know how "severe" your dysplasia is, and whether or not you have pre-cancer or actual cancer, you need a biopsy. Doc discussed several options but based on my diagnosis, recommended the most common procedure, the LEEP.
Here's the definition from Planned Parenthood:
I know you're excited, huh. I mean who isn't lining up for a thin electrical wire to carve away your insides...while you're awake... gulp. Doc felt confident it would successfully get the baddies and assured me it wouldn't hurt, as there are no real nerves in the lady cave. If there aren't nerves, then why do certain things feel so good?
The day arrived and I was uber anxious. Travis had been working really hard on a job but would totally be there to hold my hand. We go in, do the song and dance with reviewing the procedure and wrangling the gown. If I could have puked I would have. Not because I was worried about the outcome, it was the pain I read about online which completely contradicted the doctor. Refrain ye from yer NO's... I take the internet plethora of nonsense with a grain of salt {raspberry.} The doc is saying one thing, the internet says another, and yer brain is screaming "HEY! Your fleshy tissue will be burned with electricity without anesthesia!!!" You kinda can't think of anything else.
So I'm there, watching these old fangledy looking machines hum to life while the ladies put things on steel tables. I think this office is unique. Everything feels like it's been touched by the vintage charm-meister, but with a modern efficiency. I not surprisingly dig it. The doc and nurse's face were so just another day. For them it is. For me, holy hell what the shit. I was squeezing Travis' hand and keeping it together when the nurse lobbed a zinger across the room. She turned to me with a smile and said, "I promise, it won't hurt... It'll smell like fajitas." time stop. What?! Fucking fajitas? My burning insides you're comparing to a popular sizzling meat dish? This is how you choose to put me at ease? I turned to Travis looking for a mental acknowledgment of weirdness, which we shared. I turned back to the nurse and told her I was a vegetarian...
Turns out they were right about one thing. It felt uncomfortable, a little warm, but never hurt. ever. It did not, however, thankfully smell like fajitas. EVER. I hope she only used that analogy with me. It was a crampy, but uneventul 20 minutes of zzzzz zzzz zzzzapping. Then it was over. I felt strangely disappointed for all the things I thought would happen, because all that worrying then was for nothing. sick, huh. I slowly sat up and readjusted my awareness. There was the post-op congratulations for being a good patient (I was frozen as to not want anything extra licked off,) list of after care instructions and whether I had any questions. Those subsequent minutes were a blur. I'm sure I asked when the results would be available and maybe Travis had some... but for now it was rest and wait.
I didn't tell anyone about it, including my parents. No one needed to unnecessarily worry or have me try and briefly explain what had been happening. In actuality, it was more the latter. It's a lot to dump on someone. So I took my few days off work, watched TV, had a single girlfriend come over and waited.
The follow ups went smoothly and the results came back as expected. Nasty cells were indeed nasty but only pre-cancerous, and they had been eliminated. Not sure if that's the only area of your body where doctors know when something will turn to cancer. But oh happy day I'm thankful they can! For the period of time before knowing the results, I wasn't over analyzing or focused on the worst outcome - I was proud of that. However, given it was years before being diagnosed, it's hard not to think about that slim chance. But it wasn't, and I don't, and all tests have been perfect thus far.
Today I had my 3rd anniversary pap test since the procedure. The appointment was routine, in/out and over with. In 10 days I'll either be filing another smiley face letter or breaking out the skillet...
KEEP UP WITH YOUR HEALTH!
No comments:
Post a Comment