Out come the expletives

Damn it if I didn't just get a call from my stupid gyn's ridiculously disorganized and generally less than helpful practice. They are moving my colpo a day due to some conflict (whatever--so I get to see the dentist and the hooha scraper on the same day). I asked, just to be sure, if there was anything I shouldn't do before the procedure. The gal said, "Well, they recommend you not have sex for TWO WEEKS before the exam." Okay, what the fuck, peeps? This is just ludicrous. You're telling a gal who's been unable to get knocked up for more than two years that she can't get it on with her man because you want to play with my cervix? Fuck you. And thanks for not mentioning that when I set the appointment up to begin with.

Give me patience to tolerate this rampant idiocy. There's no way in hell I'll get pregnant this coming cycle--as if-- so stick it where the sun will never, ever shine. Oh, yeah, and thanks for the salient reminder thereof. Much appreciated, dear clinic assclowns.

Ah, that felt good! Tee hee.

By the way, I just checked dear Google and it looks like there is really no good reason for this bizzarro two week imposed abstinence.

Random consolation

Yesterday was pretty grim, but slowly lightened. I basically begged off any responsibilities I had for the day and retreated to bed and the Muppet Show, which has to be the best way to laugh your ass off. I mean, if Manamana won't do it, nothing will. This was after a lovely hike in the snowy woods not far from our house, where a spring gushes from under a cliff and fills this amazing pond popular with various wild birds. The woods heal me, and my guy and I had a really good, loving talk.

I also got a call from two friends, one who's studying to be a PA in New York and another who's studying the same obscure corner of the world that I am. Both were very comforting and reassuring, and one had even had cryotherapy for abnormal cells years ago and went on to have two full-term pregnancies. If only my acupuncturist were in town! She's out of the country until January.

Most importantly, though, I realized that I can call the shots here, this being my body. I can weigh the risks and benefits and get a second opinion if I'm not comfortable with the treatment plan suggested after we get the colpo results. No one can force me to do anything. If I decide to opt for watchful waiting and if things get worse, then I'll get treatment. But if the lesions seem on the mild side, I can always refuse the knife, at least for now. This sense of control helps me. I really hate the fear that gets hammered into us women about our workings. I mean, people, there's a 0.5% chance of these cells turning into invasive cancer in the next 24 months. Let's not shit ourselves yet. Why aren't we taught and encouraged to make reasonable, careful choices? I think the answer is liability. Doctors sometimes slice first to keep their asses covered.

Probably the most annoying thing at the moment: the thought that after they do the hooha-scope, no sex for a week. Of course, it's right when I'm ovulating. Very funny. Oh, yeah, and the day afterward I have a dentist appointment to get some teeth drilled. Maybe I should do my taxes the day after that, eating only runny oatmeal and worms. I'm really looking forward to early January.

F**K it

Ah, yes. Eventually we all reach that lovely spot, Fukitallsville, where everything is blissfully irrelevant and no longer worth our energy. I just found out last night, thanks to a message on our machine, that I had an abnormal pap. Not the lowest, gee-what-is-that-there? level, but not in the precancer danger zone. But I still have to get a colposcopy to see what's up. I'm scared. I'm afraid my doctor will want to take the electric loop to me and will fuck up my cervix, adding yet another obstacle--this time a permanent, inescapable one--to my future fertility.

So I spent the night dreaming odd dreams of doctor's offices, great green hills with secret paths, and such, and of course consulting Dr. Google about my chances for being maimed.