As part of the yearly maintenance requirements of vagina ownership, I had to go in for a look under the hood. Just a check up, a quick lube job if you will. Everything looked fine. Then I got the call. Abnormal cells of the cervix, presence of a virus that is associated with cervical cancer, further tests required. By the end of the call, all I could hear was the teacher from the Peanuts cartoons.
I have made it two years past the age my mom had her first tumor discovered. It was abdominal, soft tissue and not related to cervical cancer, a bit of a relief. But I am just three years from the age she was when the second tumor took her life.
Yeah, you could say I was scared, terrified, petrified. I spent about a month of this summer going through the stages of grief associated with addressing mortality. I waited three months to make the follow up appointment for tests. I couldn't do it when I was in shock, or when I was angry, or crying every day. I had to wait for acceptance of the plan for my life. Acceptance that it will be the way it is supposed to be no matter what. Only then could I pick up the phone and make that call to schedule the big day. The big day which happens to be tomorrow, about 12 hours from now to be precise.
I am not sure what tests will need to be done other than a colposcopy, which I would liken to a tiny melon baller to take tissue samples from the cervix. That procedure could lead to further tests and biopsies. They can say it is not painful or traumatic all they want, but I happen to like my tissues exactly where they are, thank you very much.
So I have selected this shirt to wear to my appointment.
If nothing else it will make me smile when I need it the most.
It could be a while before I have results but there is still a chance that my body has corrected the damage. That is what I am praying for. And even if they do come back with a cancer diagnosis it is one of the slowest moving and easily treatable cancers. Logically I know I am going to be just fine, but inside there is still a 20 year old girl who watched her 43 year old mother die of cancer.
I hope to be able to sleep tonight and get through tomorrow morning bravely. Then I have until 3:30pm to come home, crawl into bed and cry if necessary. But when the boy gets off that bus I will be the mom he is expecting, ready to take on the world, bake cookies, tickle him to bed and snuggle him to sleep. Because that is what I live for, being his mom. And because I am a lot stronger than I give myself credit for sometimes. I can do this.
Make sure and get in for your yearly lube job ladies.