I’ve just come back from my 2 yearly pap smear appointment and thought I’d make a too-much-information post about it. I’m feeling like someone’s attacked my insides with a blender – and this despite the fact that the doctor is a really good and caring GP. Why is this procedure so horribly awful? Surely there’s some other way we can test for cervical cancer other than spreading your legs for a stranger and letting them scrape away at your bits with a miniature toilet brush?
I found myself doing the “keep yourself nice” routine – having a thorough shower and shaving my legs, putting on some makeup. This from a furry princess who is often found wearing pyjamas all day. Why do we do this? Perhaps it’s to feel a little bit more comfortable and in control during what is, essentially, an unpleasant experience when we often feel exposed and helpless.
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And then I had a smile about the old urban myth of a woman turning up for her pap smear with glittery nether regions.
Apparently Joan Rivers’ method for making pap smears better was to “learn to throw your voice.”
I did laugh at the little sign in the surgery: “I won’t panic, cry or scream. I’m the doctor.”
I also had to resist becoming a geek and talking about this shot film on Youtube when one of the interns knocked on the door as I’m lying there behind the curtain with legs akimbo.