No really. This post is probably something male readers don't want to read. I don't even know if all female readers will be comfortable reading it. But here goes nothing...
I opened a letter.
This is to inform you that your Pap Smear was abnormal.
Ew. She's talking about a Pap. Who does that? Not preppy politicos. That's for sure. Well at least not in the past...
My year in blogging began with a promise to myself: to be unabashedly candid when writing. No holding back. If I can't be heart-on-your-sleeve honest, then why bother. Right? Sure I babble on about clothes and shopping with the best of them, but when it comes to the real stuff, I was going to be just that -- real.
Which brings me to this afternoon, when I came home for a late lunch break.
I only work a block from my office (it's more like out the back door and across the street. 50 yards. Max.), so I thought it would be a nice way to break up the monotony of day. To get away for half an hour.
Like I just mentioned, I come home through the back door, so I went to the front to check if the mail had come yet. Not because I care about the "real" mail, but because I've done so much online shopping lately, I was looking for packages.
Enter the letter.
... It is recommended that you have a colposcopy and biopsy as soon as possible.
A tidal wave of emotion hits me -- what in the world does this mean? Is something... really wrong?
Back-track. Last year I had my annual exam and had an abnormal pap that I thought NOTHING OF. Why, because I was so consumed by being a Capitol Hill Press Secretary working 15+ hour days, that it didn't phase me. I was told to come back in in two months to have another test, and that was that. No mention of crazy sounding tests and biopsies. But somehow I left a year pass and I never went back for a follow-up test. What if I waited too long and something really was wrong? What if by not going back to the doctor, I let things spiral out of control for over a year without even knowing it.
Everything that happened in the subsequent half hour is a blur.
I can't get through to either of my parents.
I've panicked and called the doctor, desperate for more information. He's out for a while, and the nurse can't tell me anything else until my now scheduled colposcopy/biopsy appointment next Thursday. Over a week away.
//Pause// About a month ago
I blogged about friendship. About a friend being in need. I didn't explain everything then, but this is the exact thing she dealt with, except she knew what her results were and they were scary as hell. It's changed her life even. She's not dying or anything, but for a minute there, the world stood still as we waited for her results and final prognosis. //Un-pause//
I finally get through to my dad. My mom's at a doctor appointment of her own. I'm scared as hell. Crying my eyes out. I still don't quite comprehend what's going on, but the explanation of procedures accompanying my "letter of doom," sounded terrifying. Hell, as far I'm concerned they are terrifying.
My dad was amazing. He allowed me to talk "woman"and revert back to a helpless child all at the same time. 20 minutes or so later, we hang up.
Sobbing. The unknown holds a hell of a lot of power. Fear is miserable. More sobbing. I don't know enough to feel like this is "okay."
I have a plan. I'm going to call my doctor's office back and request the records for a previous doctor. They tell me I can come in, sign a release and they'll fax a copy for me as well as give me a print-out. Genius.
I go and pick-up my results. Tricky? Sure, but even if there's really no other doctor and even if someone's not there to explain the paperwork at the moment, God created Google for a reason -- surely this part of that reason.
So now I know more about my
abnormal Pap Smear. There's going to be a lot I learn over the next few weeks with my tests. I don't have any real answers right now. At least not ones I want to talk about. Yeah, I'm trying to be honest, but I'm also trying to keep my sanity. Thinking about the possible "bad outcomes" would immobilize me.
But I bring up all of this, because I know I'm not alone. I know single ladies my age (29, on Saturday folks. Happy Birthday to me...), don't really talk about these things. We're grown up enough to recognize we're adults (despite the fact I still think of myself as "a kid"), but we're not quite ready to own said adulthood.
That said, I don't embarrass easily when talking all things "health," but I know it makes so many people uncomfortable. Which is a shame. No, I'm not so crass as to consider this dinner table-talk, but we shouldn't be embarrassed to ask questions of one another. To say, "I'm scared as hell and I feel as though I'm the only person I know going through this," when in reality there's quite possibly someone in your life who's experienced the same thing. Something similar.
Which brings me to my point. I'm petrified. I know cervical cancer doesn't usually mean death, but just the thought of "cancer" being part of the conversation is terrifying. So if you're going through this, something similar, or even something totally different but still terrifying -- I'm
here. And if you've been through this before and things turned out well, or even less than perfect you feel free to
tell me and help me feel as little less alone/confused/scared.
So yeah, today wasn't the great of days by any means. But here's to all the women out there and all the BS we have to deal with because we're women.
Until next time.
P.S. if you've put off your annual visit because life's gotten in the way, or you've just never gone before -- make that appointment.
