Last September I went for my routine smear test. It was my
third one and I remember the lady asking me about my job while she scraped my
cervix for a sample. I was in and out in ten minutes and didn’t think about it after that.
She said my results would take about ten weeks to come through as there was a
delay to testing samples and we worked out that it would arrive about a week before
christmas.
So December arrived, and on the day I broke up from work for
the holidays, I had a letter from the cervical testing people at the NHS. I had
abnormal cells which required further investigation, and I am also high-grade
HPV positive. HPV has been all over the news as teenage girls are now being
vaccinated against it whilst at school. I looked at getting the vaccine a
couple of years ago but it was set to cost around £550, so I didn’t bother.
I then had another letter arrive telling me I had an
appointment at the Birmingham Womens Hospital, for a colposcopy to look at the
cervix and poke it some more. The logical, rational side of my brain knew there
was nothing to worry about, that the chances of cancer were so so SO slim, and
that it was just a precaution to get checked out. However, the anxiety side of
my brain went into overdrive. I had a couple of meltdowns over christmas and
spent a lot of time worrying. I didn’t want to start the new decade as a cancer
patient.
The day I was due back at work was the day of the hospital
appointment, so off we went. I was so terribly anxious. I cried in the morning
because I couldn’t find my vaseline in my hand bag, I cried in the car, and I panicked
internally as we waited. When the nurse called me to walk me to the room I had
an anxiety attack in the corridor and cried when I got into the room. I had a
little panic in the changing room because I couldn’t work the hospital gown so
just waddled out, holding it closed behind me.
The actual procedure was fine, and quite interesting. I saw
my cervix close up on a telly screen and the lady prodded my baby hole with a
cotton bud. I didn’t feel a thing (except discomfort when she put the speculum
in). Fortunately, and to much relief, I didn’t even need a biopsy. I am
officially abnormal but not enough to require treatment. There isn’t much that
can be done about the HPV except wait and see what my body does with it. I have
to have a smear test in a years time rather than waiting three.
I really hate my brain and the way it works sometimes. It is
so hard to suppress the anxious brain and to let the logical brain takeover. Despite
all this, I am very glad for the NHS and the ladies at the hospital. They took
their time to calm me down and spoke very clearly about risks of cancer and likelihood.
A week later and completely unrelated to my cervix, I had a
bout of incredibly bad heartburn. I have suffered with this for many a long
year. I used to be prescribed 3 litres of gaviscon a month and would just drink
it out of the bottle, and eventually it stopped working. To this day I still
rarely take gaviscon or rennie, as it doesn’t work. I mentioned this to my
doctor when I was getting my other medication, and I left the room with a
sample pot for some poop, and a prescription for acid-reducing medication.
So now I am being tested for bacteria levels in my stomach
(they can measure the levels by looking at your poop), and have medication to
reduce acid levels. I have taken them for a few days now and it is honestly
life changing. I haven’t had heartburn! For three days in a row!! This is a
minor miracle!!! I might need antibiotics and depending how that goes, possibly
a tube down my gullet to look at my stomach.
I am so very happy to live in a world where I have access to
this level of healthcare for no upfront cost. No questions asked. I do pay for
prescriptions now, but it’s a small price to pay for what we get back. I haven’t
paid anything to the nurse or the hospital, or to send off some poop.
This has been quite a long TMI sort of blog, but I just want
to end it by saying – if you have a cervix, please go for your smear. I have
spoken to some people about what’s happened to me over the festive break and
quite a few ladies have said “oh you’re so good I never go for mine”. It is
such a simple procedure, takes less than ten minutes, and the nurse does not
give a flying fuck about the state of your pubes.
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| The poop sample pot comes with a poop scoop |
