Wednesday, September 7, 2011

been losing faith for quite a while now.

Aug. 24
Today was my appointment with the doctor. A part from being so nervous I felt sick to my stomach, I managed to forget how to count, and walked right past suite 201. With my state of mind, filling out information sheets was the last thing I felt capable of doing, but if it was going to distract me from noticing I’m the only non-pregnant girl in the room- by all means!
I was eyes deep in my poetry book (yes, I carry one in my purse for moments such as this.) trying to relax when, “Alana? Alana Britten? The doctor will see you now.” I stood up, in what could only appear to be an unnecessarily, shocked jump, when the giant nine month pregnant lady gave me a pity smile. I walked to sit in the colourless office, and took the seat that was sturdy and perfectly placed next to the wall. It never occurred to me until now, but why is it that all doctors have chairs with wheels on them? Its not like they have a desk to sit behind or anything. Or are in the room long enough to take it for a ride in a 5 meter jaunt. 
No sooner do I take a seat, when the same shrill voice that called my name moments before, comes in to hand me a brouchure printed on the brightest, bluest paper I’d ever seen. So you know it must be important. I take one look at it and quickly shove it in my purse, as how could a LEEP (loop electrosurgical excision procedure) apply to me?
In attempts to keep my stressful mind-set at ease, I pick up the year old magazine (one I’d already read when it initially came out) and began flipping through it vigorously. I was, yet again, fully emerged in 2010’s summer hairstyles when, in walks a guy wearing dress pants and tie, holding a Tim Hortons coffee. He must be my doctor. It was hard to tell for sure, as the last time I saw him, he was head deep in my vagina and I didn’t exactly want to get a good look at his facial features, let alone look him in the eye. I keep thinking that each time I go to a gyno it will get easier to get over that fact, and in some ways it does, but it doesn’t stop it from being on the back of my mind each and every time.
The small chat that one would normally partake in with their doctors took place at this time. Mostly about the weather, with occasional references to how busy the waiting room is- and it was! But just as soon as it came, the small talk quickly turned serious as he explained to me the extend of the previous procedures results. I had been mentally preparing myself for the worst, so when the news of “pre-cancerous cells” came rambling out of his mouth, I let out a sigh of relief. Funny how a sentence containing the word cancer can go to complete opposite ends of the spectrum in seconds, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I had wished the only “C” word that would be said in that room was “See you in another year!” but you don’t always get what you ask for. I figured this would be a good time to start controlling my facial expressions, as surely he could see I was about to burst into tears as he told me “I would have this problem for the rest of my life.” And I did. I left the room feeling a little bit better from his in-depth explanation as to what would happen next. I calmly made an appointment, grabbed my purse (which also doubles as my luggage these days) and walked in a quick but strong stride to the car. That’s when it happened. Tears. Before I even managed to shut the door.
I thought back to the last couple of years. The countless doctors visits, the endless worrying which often interrupted me from all my exciting adventures. I remembered how ever since my first abnormal pap test I was worried every single time something seemed out of place with my body.
What an exhausting past few years.
The tears continued for a few minutes until my alternative, realistic –often-considered “deep” mood kicked in. I started thinking about all the other woman out there who maybe have/had the same sort of results. All the ones that, were maybe too scared to go back and get it really dealt with- like I had originally been. I just hope, whatever the case may be, that they did bite the bullet and go. Because, although the doctors office may seem like a danger-zone to walk willingly into alone, you are anything but. They are there to help you and who knows, maybe your brave actions will help them catch it in time before anything more comes of it.

So, it could be worse. Other people are worse off then me, and I bet they didn’t break down in tears after their conversations with their doctor. I smarted up, wiped them away and put my truck into drive.