by Jessica Setzer

Created on: May 29, 2009

Yearly exams and PAP smears have never been a big deal, an uncomfortable inconvenience at most, but definitely never caused me any anxiety. I have no history of cancer in my family, which made me feel pretty comfortable that I wasn't at risk. Add the fact that I'm almost 30 and have had around 15 normal pap smears, and it all gave me a false sense of security. Then I received a letter in the mail reporting an abnormal PAP smear. I was so at ease, thinking it was some bacterial infection that I put off going back to the OB.

I called a few weeks later to set up an appointment for my birth control and as an afterthought, mentioned my PAP smear results, assuming that they would just repeat the PAP. It wasn't until I saw the nurse's stern face in response to my neglect that I realized this was something to worry about. She sympathetically told me that there would be no repeat PAP, instead I would have a coloscopy...right then.

It was still not a big deal. I just had to put my legs in the stirrups, just like an exam. The doctor coats the cervix with a vinegary-solution that helps to highlight abnormal areas. Then he uses a microscope to see the abnormal cells. Then he took the biopsy, just a pinch of skin, to send off for a test. He'd call me with the results. I left the office feeling a little wary, but pretty confidant.

A week later, the nurse called and asked me to come in. I knew it must be something when I wasn't getting the news over the phone. He explained that I had severe dysplasia, one step from cancerous cells. He said we caught it early, no big deal. I started to cry. They were tears that well up and fall with no effort, the tears that you don't even realize are there. And he replies, "I really wish you weren't so upset over this". That's when I realized I should be seeing a woman OB. A woman would understand the knot in your throat, the swelling of your chest, the heat flushing your face when you hear news of something like this...not cancer, but it could have been, would have been if I kept waiting.

He said it would be a month before he would do the LEEP procedure, which he explained wasn't much more than the coloscopy, just a laser to cut out the bad cells. No big deal.

For the next four weeks, I felt dirty. I felt like I had some sort of growth eating at me, invading my body. I can't explain why I felt this way; I just felt polluted and couldn't wait for the procedure.

Being the controlling, organized person that I am, I needed to assert some

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