My Effing Cervix

Just when you thought me ranting about my lady parts was a thing of the past, I'm back with more. Only this one's not as funny as the bike seat episode. This one isn't funny at all.

You see, I am one of many, many people in the world who have a lil' something called HPV (human papilloma virus). Word on the street is that about 70% of young folks will dance with this disease in their lives. In my case, like many women, HPV infection has led to precancerous lesions on my cervix.

I had an abnormal PAP test around seven months ago and was sent to get a colposcopy (Round 2 of testing). I went for my appointment. The waiting room was a Russian bread line with women hanging off the walls.

My doc (who looked about 16 years old) was almost two hours behind. He was curt and obviously stressed. He said I would be booked in for two follow-up tests six months apart and I'd be getting results in four weeks.

I got a message from his office several weeks after the test. I called the office. No answer, no voicemail. I waited. I called again. Still no answer. I called again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Since they hadn't called back, I assumed (after calling ten times) that all was well. Six months passed. I went to my follow-up a couple of weeks ago. There, Doogie Howser admitted that he, um, didn't get enough cells in the first biopsy, so there, um, weren't any results.

Oh.

So, let me get this straight. You botched the biopsy because you were trying to be a hero and see four thousand patients in one day. And then, four weeks later when the non-results came back – you know, when you realized you screwed up – you didn't call to get me in for another test. You let me and my gradually morphing cells just hang out for six months?

Oh. I see.

Doogie did a better job this time around. And he was extra, extra nice to me. Ain't that sweet?

They called on Thursday, and by the grace of God, I answered the phone. They asked me to come in so they can discuss the results with me.

I am not stupid. I know what this means. I have been here before. This means the cells are abnormal enough to warrant surgery.

This is information I really needed six months ago.

Can I tell you what you feel when you receive information like this? Here is the thought process: Cervical cancer is coming to get me. They are going to keep hacking bits of me off until my entire cervix is gone. I will not be able to have children. I am going to die.

So there's the fear. And in me, right now, there is anger. Big, red gushing anger. Because we are all gung-ho about our marketing campaign to vaccinate our daughters but right now half of the women in my demographic have this virus. Right. Now. And what are we doing for the women who have it now? We're chopping off pieces.

The prevention is 'look for it.' The treatment is 'cut it off.'

And, tell me...what's the point of vaccinating my daughter when I might not be able to have her in the first place?

We are not dealing with the underlying cause. We are not addressing the men who gave it to us. (Why? Because it "doesn't lead to any health risks" for them. Um. Half of their wives, sisters and mothers having cervical cancer...not a health risk? Sure, boys, don't worry about it. You're clear. Go back to the Golf Channel.) We are in the dark ages.

Yes, I know that HPV and mutant cells don't necessarily mean cancer. And yes, I know that cancer doesn't necessarily mean I can't have children or that I might die. I know my facts are probably all twisted and sideways and I'll get over this rage fit soon. But right now I am angry and I am scared. And that is real and this is happening.

Here it is, folks. Real live rage. Livid white fear. Molten and blazing. Get it while it's hot.