Biopsy

[Prologue: If you are squeamish about vaginas, stop reading.]

My pap smear results came back with "squamous cells" noted. What an ugly word. Squamous. What does this mean? I googled it. Still not sure, but it does mean I need to have a cervical and endometrial biopsy. I google "endometrial." Uterus lining. Got it.

I am nervous when I show up for my procedure. I might have cancer. I meet a young female resident and a 60-ish male supervisor. His name is Dr. Lord. I tell them I walked 10 minutes up the hill from my office in the heat, sweating, and apologized if I am "not so fresh." Dr. Lord assured me, "Don't worry. We've seen it all. We've rescued lost tampons and they stink horribly." Awkward. I joked, "Do you think that's my problem?" He said no. I said, "At least you could find me a lottery ticket in there, because I need a winner." The resident asked if she could claim a finder's fee, and I replied, "No, but you can keep any loose change that falls out."

The resident puts me in the stirrups and takes a front row seat, wielding a crank. Couldn't get the crank to work, apparently. It snaps shut while inserted. I jolt. She struggles with it. This is not helping my nerves. I am losing faith in Dr. Lord and his Disciple.

Lord is by my side most of the time, guiding her and analyzing the procedure. There is a TV screen. He points to the screen. "We have to position it just right so we can see the entire cervix the entire time.  Do you want to see your cervix?"

For the love of all that is Holy, no.

She finally has me at full throttle down below. I'm open for business; locked and loaded. The instruments are selected one by one. He narrates for my benefit. "First the Q-tip to clean the cervix. A little discharge to clean is normal." I feel dull scraping. "Then we squirt vinegar on it, which will highlight areas of irregularity." 5 minutes go by where I have a mild burning and dripping sensation while they discuss areas of irregularity on my cervix. I accidentally glance at the TV screen and see my vaginal walls and cervix larger than life and bright as the sun, being poked with a giant foreign object. I quickly averted my gaze. I didn't realize there would be a spotlight and magnifying glass up there. How do they fit it all in - camera, spotlight, tools???  Poking continues. I fidget.

Good news! They have checked out my clean cervix and declare that a cervical biopsy is unnecessary. Everything seems normal so far. Make a note in the chart, Disciple. On to the uterus!

Then the trouble starts. They have to shove some sort of cattle prod straight through my cervix and "open it like a fan" to obtain the endometrial biopsy. "It will feel like a strong menstrual cramp," he warns. Well I don't know what kind of menstrual cramps he has, but I almost vomited. I croaked, "I think I am going to throw up." He quickly placed a pink plastic bedpan on my belly. The only thing stopping me from heaving was a vision of having to do this all over again because violent puking would sling-shot the crank out of my cavern and send instruments flying. I massaged my neck and throat to keep from dry heaving. My splayed legs started to shake. There is moaning. Mine, I think. The bed pan slides off me, clattering to the floor. Disciple says – of all things – "Hold still," and "Try to relax.” Really? Turns out she was having trouble getting past the cervix into the uterus because my cramps were working against her. You mean she’s not even in the uterus yet? Ten minutes we did this. And finally they were done. Then they extended the table, gently lifted my shaking ankles from the stirrups and placed my feet flat on the table, together, knees still in the air. "Rest," sayeth the Lord, "Let the cramping subside." They left. I cried in solitude.

Ten minutes later I felt much better. Dr. Lord returns to confirm this. "Get dressed and we will answer any questions you might have." My question was, "Am I going to need this every year?" He said No. Thank the Lord.

[Epilogue: Endometrial biopsy was normal. No further procedures needed.]