There comes a time in a woman’s life in which she is called upon to present herself in a completely undignified and hugely embarrassing manner. Mine came at 10.20 this morning…
Within a week of turning 25 a letter from the NHS landed in my letterbox inviting me for my very first Smear test. I wasn’t too worried, I knew it was a routine check carried out every three years to make sure your Cervix stays in tip top shape and lives a happy and prosperous life. The procedure itself wasn’t overly intimidating either as I do in fact look after my sexual health with regular visits to the health clinic (which more people should really consider doing) and I knew it was a painless and rather quick affair with the methods they use. So I went along to my local nurse, popped myself on the bed, done the whole “Ankles together knees apart” and within five minutes I was out of the room being advised a letter would be sent through to determine if there were any issues. Excellent. Job done.
Two weeks later and I had the confirmation that I was booked in for a Colposcopy. My results had shown certain changes and they wanted a closer look. Hmmm. Time to bare myself again in front of another audience. Fantastic news. Except this was so much worse than just popping to the doctors. Now, before I continue women everywhere have to have this done and it can save your life. So before the explicit descriptions start I would just like to say I am merely making light of a somewhat awkward moment that occurs with being lucky enough to be female. If you don’t like scientific terms please look away now. I will be using the word Vagina.
10am and I am sitting in the waiting room reading a leaflet on “What happens during the examination” and in general shitting myself. I know so many people get called back for one reason or another but when it’s you it’s hard not to assume the worst. For that reason I resisted the urge to google the outcome and otherwise convince myself I would die within an hour. The nurse casually strutted out of the door with a rather scary looking “Colposcopy” sign hammered onto it and I heard a mans voice. Great. A man doctor to peer up my between my legs. The only men that have ever had such a good look at me are the ones who I have had sexual relations with and at least felt comfortable enough to expose my down-below regions too. Again the nurse saunters out but this time calls my name. Oh my.
She brings me into a pre-examination room and explains what will happen, do I have any questions and to strip from the waist down. I place a large sheet of tissue around me like a skirt and nervously enter the room, seeing to my right a large dentist-like chair that looks like a torture device. Oh boy. This shit just got a whole lot worse. There were two nurses and a male doctor present. Shuffling onto the chair as requested one right leg was pulled a meter apart from the left and I don’t think I have ever in my entire life felt so uncomfortable with a situation. Then it happens. Nurse one presses a button and raises the chair to eye level for Mr Doctor to insert objects into my vagina and stare through a pair of what looked like binoculars at my insides. Words cannot describe how much I wanted to just jump off that chair and run. To make the situation that bit more unbearable I could see my entire self from the inside on a screen, from which she then proceeds to point out that’s where my periods come from. I’m lying on a chair, legs wide apart with three people staring up my vaginal passage and she thinks I don’t know where my period comes from. Well, I am lucky enough to be told to return in three years as there are no problems. I exit the room after the worst 15 minutes I have possibly experienced.
So there you have it, who would have thought dropping your knickers could save your life.
Copyright © 2013 The Bella Effect