Recluse

I haven't been good myself. I have shut myself away from the world and anything that makes me have to answer questions or have conversations.

I am not dying, but I do not want to explain. My friends and family know better, however. They know that I am struggling with two many worries in my basket. They want to know why I haven't read their blogs, or updated them on my health. What exactly do those cryptic status statements on facebook mean, anyway?

Whether you have an abnormal pap smear, or cervical cancer, or just a regular check up... Pelvic exams are not fun. Up until this last year, they rated higher than rectal exams and enemas on my list of fun things to do, but that has quickly diminished. Since June, I have had 8 pelvic invasions of the medical variety. They have varied in complexity and pain, from the merely uncomfortable to the horrendously awful. Last week I experienced the most horrible of all procedures I have had to endure. It defied any strength of character that I possessed and sent me into hiding ever since.

Since my last pap came back with severe dysplasia (that's one step before cancer, as I understand it) after I had surgery to remove all hooglie googlie cells, the docs were not happy. They did another LEEP procedure, a difficult and uncomfortable procedure involving an electrified scalpel and local anesthesia. A procedure which I was doing okay with until they removed tissue from an area that had not been numbed. The results from that biopsy was... good. It was normal, with no abnormal cells and no cancer! Whoo hoo! *shaking head no* Not so says the doc, because the other test showed abnormal, so they have to be coming from somewhere. Somewhere deeper. Where we can't see. Enter in the Endocervical Extraction. I was warned that it would be uncomfortable but comforted by the fact that it would be quick. It only takes a second to feel the pain as the doctor blindly inserts, prods, and pulls out pieces of you, with out the benefit of painkillers.

I started crying. It took all I had not to throw up. When the nurse and doctor left the room, I just sat and stared at my feet. What am I doing? What I have I done? Why do I have to go through this?

Earlier in the summer, I breezed through these procedures with hardly a thought. I was still numb I guess. In shock over it all. I felt guilty that I had not suffered. Now each visit is excruciating, filled with nothing concrete and soul wrenching pain. Now I wait. Wait for news that i don't know what do with, how to feel about, or wish for. I wish for no cancer, but that will not preclude me from further surgery if there are abnormal cells.

This is what has been keeping me up nights, and avoiding my phone during the days. Today is a good day and I grow weary of hiding myself. Perhaps it is the warmer temperatures, finally above 10 degrees, and the sunshine. Maybe it is love and concern of my friends. Maybe I'm just weary of myself.