5 weeks for the results of the test but only 2 weeks till
the follow up – I was dazed, confused and a bit emotional. My plans for the
rest of the day was to spend it at the USP Library, furiously studying, and
drop by the office to film. Turns out I had a fancy newly discovered companion
to join me on my adventures in life – and then there was me trying to find the
humour in it all and hoping I didn’t have to pay extra bus fare for it.
By the time the follow up check came around, I’d already
shared the horrific experience of my first pap smear with anyone who stopped
long enough to listen. I figured I had a duty to let people know how important
getting checked was.
I’d also decided that I’d like to use the word vagina as
often as possible.
Vagina. Vagina, vagina and vagina. You’re welcome.
Anyway, along came that fateful Monday. Before 8am, there I
was again – outside the Wellness Clinic, ready to pick up my referral note from
the doctor who has stood in the doorway of the examination room to spy a look
at the Gandalf Downstairs.
I had to wait about 20 minutes before receiving the stapled
note and heading off to find the Lancaster Ward. I had my partner with me –
because there was no way I was going to go see a doctor without some emotional
support – and at the ward we sat for almost 2 hours before my name was called.
I was a little tired and a lot nervous when it came time to
go one-on-one with a new speculum. I’d somehow lost a bit of weight in the 2
weeks that had passed and I was ready to be told the little finger wizard was
going to come out.
(Part Six: http://commaopinionated.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-gandalf-downstairs-part-six.html)
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