The new adventures of old Mandy

I think I am at a loss for words. Sure, some will come pouring out as I try to string this together, but, overall, I am stunned. This past week has been unusual...strange...odd.

It all started with that bizarrely timed visit to the specialized clinic last week...the one I was supposed to go to several years ago, but didn't. Why did I go last week? What strange cosmic energy cause the idea to pop into my brain and have me actually act on it? I sure don't know. If I hadn't gone- I wouldn't have seen a gynecologist for 2 more years. (After 65 "they" say you don't need pap smears more than once every two years).  But I did go and I am grateful for whatever message the universe sent me to "do it" when there was no compelling reason to do so. Things were as they had been for several years. It was just a whim.  It's good to follow your whims, I've learned. The doctor found something inside that wasn't supposed to be there - so she biopsied it.  That's where I left this story in a previous blog entry.

Four days ago I got a call from the doctor who'd found the "unusual thing".  As phone calls go - it wasn't a great one. I remember the words "pre" and "cancerous" (like anyone would not notice those words..)..."need a large excision" and "refer you to " a gynecological oncologist".  She painted a grim picture and asked for my permission to forward my records to the oncology specialist.  I clearly recall hearing her urging me to share what I was thinking/feeling and i vaguely remember telling her I was "freaked out" and "didn't feel like talking".  Within ten minutes I was contacted by the oncologists' office and an appointment for the next day was scheduled. Why was everyone in such a hurry???.

I told my husband - who looked stunned,gave me a hug, and went golfing. I called my friend - the one who is wise and calming and knows just enough about everything to convince me I am safe. She picked me up off the emotional floor and spoke reasonably. (But she later confessed calling her daughter to get more information and relieve her worry.  People just function better with information than with speculation)) She advised me to NOT go online and research the issue. (She knew I would) Then I snapped out of it! I'm calling MY doctor - he'll know what to do.  So I did.

After a verbal swordfight with the Aurora Healthcare receptionist/operator (I don't think I should have to tell anyone not involved in my healthcare or directly with my physician the specifics of WHY I want to talk to MY doctor) and a short explanation to my doctor's nurse, I got a call from him. That's why I love him. He calls back and he does it quickly. My hero. My savior. (My longtime sexual fantasy). The best way to characterize his response was "pissed" and concerned. Pissed that he refers someone to a clinic and the clinic doctor never contacts him and tries to send the patient elsewhere. Concerned because he had just seen me 60 days ago and NOTHING was wrong then.  He was also displeased that the other doctor had scared the hell out of me by sending me on to an oncologist.  "It's a bit premature," he explained, "I have several patients dealing with the same issue. I can handle it. I'll do the excision."  (I later learned he also called the clinic doc and reamed her a new orifice.)

The following day, after a brief exam in his office, he concluded that the excision should be done at the hospital - as soon as possible. So we did it. It was my one and only hospital experience -ever. In 65 years I have not ever been sedated for any surgical procedure or hospitalized for any illness.( I have now experienced my first anesthesiologist and my first taste of a propofol/fentamine "cocktail". Yum.)

I lived. I even got a bonus during the surgery - my doctor told my husband he did a little remodeling so that "things" might go a little easier for us in the future. Did he paint or wallpaper my insides? Move the furniture a bit? I'll find out next week I guess.

Today the results came in. The "margins" were clear.  That is good. I also discovered that within the tissue was the human papiloma virus (HPV). Who knew? How long has that been there? Which of those many many men of my youth (and my middle age) left me with this gift?  This gift and cancer are often tied together.  I will have to be monitored from this point forward.  I will get to see my doctor MORE than every year or every other year.  That is a nice payoff....I'll take it.

I guess the things we do in our youth follow us in some nasty ways into our later years.  Remember when that string of freckles across your nose in the summer was cute? It's not so cute later on...nor are the "freckles" that emerge up and down your arms and legs. Not cute at all.  And all those men I loved during and after the sexual revolution of the 60's and 70's - apparently they're still with me (or one of them is). I can't help but wonder what other products of my youth remain to be revealed.  I kind of hope they're not all unpleasant. You know what would be unpleasant? If I'd gotten the HPV from Mel...Mini-Mel. The big psychologist with the miniature penis...That would be the worst...Instead, I'll imagine it was left by Carlos, the Argentinian hunk who...oh never mind. I'll save that for later.