On March 29th I had a doctor’s appointment and wrote Notes Between the Paper Sheets.
On April 3rd I got a call from the doctor about my results during a co-workers lunchtime baby shower. A firm believer in no call is a good call I clearly panicked. After all I am also a firm believer in that bad things will happen to me (also good things. I have yet to win the lottery or be in tsunami, but I believe both are feasible.) I was told, as I stood in the parking lot gripping my iPhone and thinking about things like fertility loss, medical bills and the C word, that my tests results were abnormal and that I need to come in for more. The nurse I spoke to was very chipper. She told me I was probably fine. My appointment wasn’t scheduled until April 26th.
I am going to be fine.
On April 5th I called my insurance provider to ask how much this would cost. During said conversation I was a) disconnected b) told that they couldn’t help and to call the doctor c) told I was having surgery and would have to pay my $1,000 deductible or d) All of the above.
ding ding ding, ladies and gentleman the right answer is D. Though the option to add “and all your co-workers would leave work at that exact moment and wave to you as you stood in the parking lot” is also an acceptable answer.
On April 6th the doctor calls back to say that it’s between $400-600 since I have a $1,000 deductible. Woohoo! Love health insurance in the US of A!
The day finally arrives… April 26th:
How does one even dress for a biopsy? Heels? Skirt for easy access? I decided to dress up because if I’m going to have to get a biopsy done I’m going to look hot about it.
I only had to pay my copay upon arrival. I don’t know if this means I still have to pay more at a latter date. I choose not to say anything.
The tips of my ears are bright red. I feel like they are on fire. I want to take a photo, but I feel like it’s strange to take a photo of just the tip.
I’m told my blood pressure and pulse are very relaxed. Feel confident I could pass lie detector test.
The nurse is very pretty and very nice. She also has a Coach name tag holder. I find this reassuring. Her shirt has a Greys Anatomy logo on it. I will call her Izzy.
The procedure room is frightening. How long are they going to make me wait here? At least I’m not naked. Izzy decided that since I’ve never met the Doctor our first encounter shouldn’t be in the nude. I see a rationale to this.
That is a really big light. I feel like it could shoot lasers at me.
That is the worldwide largest cotton swab.
The door is locked with a syringe. That is … Different.
Do you smoke? Occassionally.
When did you first have sex? Um. 16, no 17. Yeah 17.
Have you had more than two sexual partners? Yes. (Silent Laughter)
Told I am very high risk for HPV. Make a completely non-scary disease sound like a very scary disease, check! Make patient feel like a street walker, check!
At least I’m a well dressed lady of the night.
I wonder why they need an oxygen tank. Perhaps I will pass out. Or get high. There is also hand sanitizer. Party in procedure room 2!
Actual procedure is unpleasant. Good thing I self medicated prior to arrival (as per instruction). There are in fact abnormal cells. She will call on Tuesday no matter the result. Am handed a cancer brochure.
Feel light headed, slightly nauseous and have no hearing in right ear.
Drink hot water from little cup in procedure room.
Resume proper hearing.
Read brochure in car. See words like hysterectomy. Decide this brochure is ancient version of webmd and will not send self into unnecessary panic.
Make list of things I don’t like:
- Soft Cheeses
- Words like moist and panties.
- Moist panties
- Reading Cancer brochures
Assume that unless otherwise written that the results on Tuesday will be fine.