It’s been a while since I last posted in my blog so apologies if you were reading these posts and were wanting more! Just over three weeks ago, I was getting ready to go in to have The Big Op and was singing ‘bye bye Miss American Pie’ except in this case Miss American Pie was my cervix.
Well I can say that I am now sans-cervix. Well done me and the entire surgical team. Well mainly ‘well done surgical team’ as they did all the work whilst I just lay there. I’ll update you on all the frivolities at a later point but if you haven’t noticed I’m doing this blog in chronological order and so we’re not quite there yet. To be fair the NHS moved incredibly fast and so it won’t be long until we are.
The op went well and I am fine. Well… as fine as I can be. I’ll be doing a blog post about the emotional fallout of this whole buggering thing but you know what? I’m just Gerrying along. I’ve saved an awful lot of positive mantra quotes onto my computer which is both encouraging and highly embarrassing.
For this blog post I want to take you back…. it’s 26th November and I’m alone in the house waiting for my cheeky Domino’s pizza for one and looking forward to whatever Danny Mac is going to throw out on Strictly (don’t get me started on the results as I am still bitter). The pizza arrives and when I go to collect it I also pick up an envelope that has landed in the porch.
“A-ha!” I think when I see the stamp on the envelope. “My smear results are back. I’m going to grab this pizza, settle down and prepare for much rejoicing!”
I’m guessing it goes without saying but I’ll say it anyway. I didn’t rejoice. The letter informed me that I had high grade dyskaryosis which had been marked as severe. The letter continued to inform me that I needed to have something called a colposcopy and a possible cervical biopsy.
This wasn’t what I was expecting. I was expecting polyps, not a letter with scary words. This was also the first time a thought started to creep into my mind. ‘I don’t know if this is going to go my way.’
Unfortunately, I was so worried about the results of the letter that I neither fully enjoyed my pizza nor the shirtless Danny Mac. So here is my favourite ever Samba embedded in my blog so that I can watch it over and over again. Feel free to send me pizza if you truly want me to enjoy the experience.
I’m now going to do a brief medical interlude. Remember what I said in the last blog post about abnormal cells and how they can be caught before anything nasty happens? I believe I used a highly technical visual aid. Well we are still at this stage so if anyone reading this gets a letter using the words ‘high grade dyskaryosis’ it is not cause for panic.
Dyskaryosis refers to abnormal cells and cervical changes. These are not cancer. It means that there are changes that need to be investigated and that is where the invitation to attend colposcopy may come in. To help I have created another highly technical visual aid…
Your cervix goes through a sort of ‘choose your own adventure’ process now. My cervix chose option 4. A friend of a friend’s cervix also chose option 4. Her journey ended when she had the colposcopy and, during the appointment, the abnormal cells were removed and her pathology results came back clear. I share this because I want people to know that an invite to a colposcopy and the mention of severe changes to their cervix can just be that. As previously mentioned this is the cervical screening process doing what it’s designed to do.
I’m now going to tell you about my colposcopy and the biopsy taken during that appointment. You are incredibly lucky that you don’t have to witness the hand gestures that I use when describing this to people. I have heard from friends who have children that there is no dignity in childbirth. I tell you now there is also no dignity to be found when having gynaecological problems.
I want to warn any blog readers. I have no intention of sugar coating any of the processes that have occurred so if you come over with 18th century sensibilities then please read no further. I’m going to give you a massive hint…. I am writing about cervical cancer…. this is going to refer to some gross and embarrassing situations and lady parts. Yes, lady parts are involved. As a society we don’t seem to want to discuss cervical cancer and I wonder if that is in part due to the area that it’s located in. It’s not like half the population have female parts or anything.
The ‘proper’ description of a colposcopy is this: –
Colposcopy is a more detailed look at the cervix. Instead of looking at the cervix with a naked eye, the person performing the colposcopy will use a special microscope to see changes at high magnification with good lighting. You will be examined on a purpose-built couch and the microscope will stay outside of your body and all that goes inside is the speculum. Some clinics may be equipped with video equipment so that you can watch the examination. The colposcopist will put several different solutions on the cervix and look for changes that indicate the presence of changes to the cells.
Here is a ‘proper’ picture of a colposcopy: –
Here is a summary of my description of a colposcopy: –
Colposcopy is where you will enter a room where a variety of medical professionals, about 3 more than expected, are waiting to stare at your cervix. You will get naked from the waist down so wear a skirt but still expect that you will have your bare ass to the room at some point. You will be examined on a purpose-built couch that allows for your crotch to be the most focal viewing and talking point in the room. A colposcopist will get face level with your vagina. This will be weird for 30 seconds and then you will become strangely accustomed quite quickly. A speculum will be used. The gentleness of this being inserted will rely solely on your colposcopist. If the clinic is equipped with video equipment you can watch the examination. Your cervix will look huge and incredibly intimidating. The colposcopist will explain what the solutions they are putting on your cervix do. You will not be able to pay attention to this as you will be distracted by looking at your massive cervix.
Here is my visual interpretation of a colposcopy: –
Ok. I will be honest. I don’t think the Eye of Sauron was living at the end of my birth canal. So, you’re going to have to take the above visual representation with a rather liberal pinch of salt.
The last thing I want to do, the very last thing I want to do, is to make anyone reading this anxious or worried about this procedure in case they are invited to one. However as this is my blog about my experiences thus far I have to be honest and say that I didn’t enjoy the experience at all. But I do think that was more to do with extenuating factors then the actual procedure itself.
It all started with what is probably standard practice for gynaecological waiting areas in hospitals (of which I had no prior clue about) but the waiting area I was in was split by temporary barricades into gynaecology and ante-natal. You sit in your relevant section. Or you’re supposed to but the number of people that have gotten pregnant and then lost the ability to read is clearly quite high in that hospital’s catchment area. I was sat, quite nervously, in the correct waiting area surrounded by heavily pregnant women and their partners that may as well just have been looking at me like this: –
This was further compounded by the overly cheery nurse who trotted towards me and chirped, “are you here for your scan?!” No. Because unlike every other f*cker in that place I could still actually read and was not, in fact, sat in ante-natal.
I come across as sensitive about this I know but at that point I wasn’t really and my irritation was more to do with the fact that my partner and I could have been anyone. I was waiting to go into a procedure that I was anxious about but the situation could have been worse for some women. I could have been there because I was having unexplained fertility issues, or was trying to conceive but couldn’t, or, (god forbid) was worried that something was going wrong with an early stage pregnancy.
Past Gerry doesn’t know this but she will, in a few months, be aware that the treatment designed to get rid of her yet unknown cervical cancer would have an impact on her reproductive system and her ability to ever have Little Gerry’s. Present Gerry finds this situation okish but feels enough things about it to create another blog post about children and fertility. There are, however, countless other women that would find overly cheery nurse’s comments to be exceptionally harming so all things considered it’s a good thing the universe sent her my way that day.
The nurse is still alive by the way. There is a saying ‘if looks could kill’ but luckily, they can’t.
This entire situation was made even worse not five minutes later by the fact that I couldn’t hear my consultant calling my name. When I finally heard her I got told off for making her wait. I. Got. Told. Off. At this point my nerves were all over the place because this was the woman that was about to get acquainted with my intimates.
I had four medical professionals attending the colposcopy, two wonderful nurses who I cannot sing high enough praise about, the grumpy consultant who told me that I was looking worried and that I shouldn’t look so worried (I did try to smooth my crinkled forehead out but it was just not happening) and a medical student whose entire role was just…to watch. I mean she was pretty much like this during the entire thing….
What happens next was as per my previous summary and to be fair, despite it being an odd and bizarre experience the colposcopy needed to have happened. I would have preferred the consultant to be more gentle with the speculum because she went with the approach of ‘let’s just ram it in’ which turned out to hurt. However, as we know now this may have been a result of the tumour that was in residence. It doesn’t mean that my experience is everyone’s experience. In fact, the previously mentioned friend of a friend had absolutely no issue with hers at all.
Because the cells I had were identified as severe they wanted to take them out there and then. If you are reading this and find yourself in this situation you want this too. It may be nerve-wracking but trust me you want this. Just lie back and imagine that the Hobbits are off to destroy the one ring. Or maybe something else suited to your interests.
There are several methods of abnormal cell removal but I can only talk about the one which is called a ‘LLETZ.’ This stands for ‘large loop excision of the transformation zone’ aka where they run an electric current up a wire loop and slice (for the lack of a better word) a centimetre or so off your cervix. I have googled an image of this so you don’t have to. You are most welcome.
This procedure allows for enough tissue to be taken in the hopes that all dodgy cells are removed but also allows for any of a sample to be analysed by the pathology department. You’re awake during the LLETZ but there is an injection of a local anaesthetic right on the cervix. It’s a bit like a bee stinging you up your fanny.
My nurse offered her hand for me to hold. I took it. In fact, it was quite nice. If you are ever in this position and you want to hold hands with your nurse just do it. My advice is to just do whatever you need to do to get through a very unusual moment in your life.
I started giggling halfway through my procedure. Partly because of nerves, partly because the situation is so weird and partly because of the lovely two nurses who were both doing medical stuff but were talking away to make me feel at ease.
When they started the LLETZ procedure they had made me feel so calm that even the sound of the little medical vacuum humming away didn’t put me off and you don’t feel a thing. You’re even given a bit of entertainment watching your leg twitch away from the electrical current pad that has been attached. It didn’t meet dizzying cancan heights but it was fun to watch. The most embarrassing moment was when I realised I was grabbing my boobs in an act of subconscious comfort and needed to discretely pretend that I wasn’t.
The worst moment of it all was at the beginning when the consultant had clearly confused my pelvis with a bottle of wine and was trying to use the speculum like a bottle opener. She announced pre-LLETZ that she ‘wasn’t getting a clear view of the cervix’ and that she ‘needed to twist the speculum.’ I heard a small voice say ‘please don’t’ before I realised it was me. Needless to say she ignored me and needless to say I can’t look at one of these without flashbacks…
I’ll have to ask if she thought I was a good vintage.
At one point my body clearly had enough of what occurring and so my little cervical minions (I’m just guessing) decided to work together to push the speculum out. Sadly, it didn’t fly out across the room which would have been amazing, because the consultant needed to make sure that thing stayed put. Which it did. By her repeatedly shoving (and I do mean shoving) it back in.
Overall if you need to have a colposcopy and LLETZ it is needed and worthwhile. Just stay away from consultants that look like this…
This could be an exaggeration on my part. But it isn’t. It totally isn’t.
After the procedure was over I looked a little like this in terms of skin colour and hair.
The shuffle walk I did back out to the waiting area made all the pregnant couples sitting in gynaecology go very quiet. I simply announced that I wanted a hot chocolate followed by a long nap both of which I got and both of which I felt I deserved. Then, because I refused to miss my work’s Christmas Party which happened to be that evening I slapped on the biggest spanx pants and the most suitable sanitary towel I had and promised my partner that I would attend the dinner only and would be able to be picked up by 9pm.
Christmas Party ensued….
I got picked up at 2am. I felt great.
Then I woke up the next day when both the local anaesthetic and alcohol had worn off.
I did not feel great. To be blunt it felt a bit like someone had chucked a Molotov cocktail up my foof.
Gerry’s tips to you regarding colposcopy and LLETZ are this: –
As my frolleague keeps telling me ‘YOLO’ (she’s young) so I OLO’d? I don’t even know these words.
I was told by the hospital that I would receive the biopsy results between two – six weeks’ time and if there was anything to be concerned about then I would receive it nearer the two weeks but to go off and enjoy my Christmas. Which I did.
Three weeks had come and gone and no sign of a letter so I was living with the hope that all was well. I neglected to consider Christmas post times and clearly as soon as letters were being delivered there was a glorious envelope waiting for me. Post-Christmas present indeed!
This is a rather lengthy post! If you’ve nodded off halfway through I can assure you this will still be here for you to read. I hopefully won’t keep those of you interested waiting long for the next one!
