day 39
Today I went to the hospital. It was kind of scary, as hospitals always are. I hadn’t really told anyone about it. Not even my parents. Nerves. Not wanting to worry anyone and also it makes everything very real if people know that you’re waiting to hear back about results for something. Too much pressure. I’ve been pretty flippant about the whole thing. The thing is, even if you’re sure that it will probably all be fine, there’s something so official, procedural about a hospital. You don’t get a lolly pop for being brave getting a jab anymore. No magazines to flick through. I was going in for a colposcopy because they’d found some abnormalities in my smear test, 1 in 20 women have it, so it’s really very common. In the procedure itself they open out your cervix and someone looks into it with a microscope.
After getting extraordinarily lost when I got to the hospital – why are there 10 different lifts which all have their own theme, certain levels they can access, others they can’t depending on the time of day, if it’s a full moon and whether or not they feel like working?! Once I’d finally tracked down the gyno department, I had a lovely doctor, Anna and her assistant was a gem too. When she picked me up from the reception I was chattering about how nice the view was (it really was nice, snazzy hotel worthy, over the city), and she graciously replied that it often relaxes people so much that they don’t want to come to their appointments. I appreciated the small talk, even though she must have heard about 1000 people say this exact thing to her.
There’s something so official, procedural about a hospital. You don’t get a lolly pop for being brave getting a jab anymore. No magazines to flick through.
In the doctor’s office, opposite me on the chair they had these nice aerial nature shots, so I kind of felt like I was looking up at the trees. Real soothing. The first thing they do is open up your cervix with a speculum, which kind of looks like a handbag clamp, you know sometimes at posh restaurants they have those things that let you hang your handbag underneath? I was too long for the chair, one of those birthing ones that has leg holders, so I had to scoot down so my bum was nearly hanging off the edge, “long limbs” I said…. In situations like this I always very bizarrely get the giggles. There’s a lot of laughing at my own jokes. Partly to escape from the fact that my whole vagine is just hanging out with these two nice strangers, and to detract from the nerves. Also nothing can go WrOnG if you’re laughing right?! Kind of like if you’re scared and home alone you start singing or put on a podcast, because everyone knows that in scary movies the bad stuff only happens when things go silent? Right? Right?!
I explained that in my smear test my cervix had been backwards…. or the donut had moved, some kind of vast medical misrepresentation no doubt of what was actually said…. but I said it with A LOT of confidence. Anna looked at me sideways and said “well it can’t have gone far, they can’t go anywhere”. Fair enough. The first speculum was too short and fat (and I am long and thin you see), and it was painful, so she used a different one, that was SO much better. Any tall ladies reading this, it shouldn’t feel like your vagina is being turned inside out and stretched like a rubber balloon when they insert the speculum, just ask for a different size or go to a gyno specialist where they’ll have a whole PLETHORA of speculums for every occasion, whatever mood or colour coordination that you’re after.
I broke the second speculum. With my actual vagina. Isn’t that kind of impressive? The deadening crack was mildly terrifying. For a split second I wasn’t sure if it was me or the speculum that broke. Her assistant simply said “strong muscles!!” which I guess is quite a cool compliment? Should I add it to my Bumble bio – strong cervix. Big heart, cold hands. I apologised for my misbehaving vagina, said I would have a word.
When I first saw my cervix on the screen I said something along the lines of “oh hey little guy…. GIRL, WOMAN I mean… um, it’s gotta be a girl?!”, the assistant looked at me as if to say “ya think??”.
Once she’d got out the metal speculum “you won’t be able to break this one”.... I got down to watching the planned programme of the day. It’s honestly the most action I’ve had in a while and I was kind of mesmerised. A microscope viewing the inside of me, like a super intimate reality TV show, but instead of it being “inside the big brother house”, it’s “inside Tiffany’s cervix”. Somehow I don't think it would get the same kind of viewing figures…. but I loved it. There’s honestly a whole universe down there. It was pretty cool. I’d somehow just thought it would be this very uninspiring tunnel, like how a diagram looks in a GCSE textbook but there’s different textures and tones. I think when I first saw my cervix on the screen I said something along the lines of “oh hey little guy…. GIRL, WOMAN I mean… um, it’s gotta be a girl?!”, the assistant looked at me as if to say “ya think??”.
There was some irregular tissue, so she took a small biopsy, which I absolutely did not watch, a small snip with some scissors, and a pad on your way home was all I got to show for it. I felt strangely emotional on my walk home. I’d been so scared, I was half relieved and half still worried about the results. One of my wonderful friends came over for the rest of the day, so I wouldn't have to be by myself. She’d offered, I never would have asked… call it the occasionally mildly detrimental independent streak in me. For dinner, she made an INCREDIBLE DIY, garlic bread by slicing into a baguette, melting butter in the oven and chopping up probably, oooh 10 garlic cloves? I’m sure we were noxious afterwards, but damn it was good. Served with fresh pasta and a sauce made up of tomatoes sweetened in the oven with oregano. Simple. Delicious. Ultimate carb coma comfort food
Sometimes, you can do hard things by yourself. And sometimes, you need people to make you a garlic bread worthy of stinking out an entire restaurant, and that’s okay too.