Blind Sided

As a general rule of thumb, I don't like being blind-sided. Of course we all know that life is full of surprises, so in order to avoid surprises the best I could, I am a worst case scenario person. I always tend to imagine what kind of possible tragedy can happen to ruin the happiness. Needless to say, that's not the healthiest mentality, but I digressed. That being said, you can well imagine my surprised when, after a routine checkup and a routine pep smear, my doctor told me that I was tested positive for HPV virus. I mean, I'd definitely be less surprised if I was diagnosed in my college years, for example, rather than after being married for 7 years. But the cells were still normal, said my doctor. It might never affect me my entire life. I put that thought aside after a few days.

Then a positive pep smear, followed by a negative one, followed by a more positive one and I was sent to a specialist. And a biopsy was in order. The biopsy was, to say the least, crude and barbaric. There was no anesthesia -- although I wasn't sure the procedure that followed a few weeks later requiring anesthesia and a needle was any better -- just the doctor and his instruments getting in there and doing his business. The pain was not horrific, but the experience was less than pleasant. When I got back to my car, I felt so violated, even though I have consented to the procedure, that all I wanted to do was to sit there and cry.

The biopsy result turned out to be high-grade abnormal, that's one level below cancerous -- should we leave the problem unattended, it will most certainly turn into cancer. Two weeks later I went back for a procedure that essentially cut out all the bad cells. Cut out! I sure hope some 20 years down the line people will look back and gasp at how primitive this cutting out method is, yet this is the only option that we have, in 2011!

The procedure was only half an hour long. I drove myself there and drove myself home, totally The Good Earth style, where the woman worked in the field till it was time to give birth, went into the shack alone, gave birth, cut the umbilical cord, then went right back to the field, all those to save the money for a midwife so she can buy a set of new clothes. Or like in a dark movie where a young woman go into a dark ally to abort her illegitimate child. If that's what courage is, I'd rather not have any. Next time, I would not be doing this alone.