Is there anything that highlights how wild the passing of time is more than receiving a letter from the NHS advising that your cervical screening test is due?
I found myself just staring at the letter refusing to believe that it had been three years since my last. To the extent that I trawled through my emails to see if I could find the date of my last one, before remembering that I probably put it in my calendar. Sure enough my last one was March 2021, which made it three years ago.
In a bid to get it over and done with I tried to get it within my current cycle and I was successful.
Here’s the thing, my previous two were not the most pleasant of experiences.
Therefore before I even showed up to my appointment I was already terrified that I was going to get a repeat performance. Not conducive to relaxing. Then I had to sit in the waiting room for about 15 minutes. More panic time.
My nurse called me in. All fine. Kind of. But when I walked into the room there was another person there. Not what I expected but honestly, it was fine, everyone’s gotta learn at some point (my nurse did let me know as I walked into the treatment room). Except this sexual practitioner at a quick glance looked like R which threw me because I love her, but I don’t need her knowing what my cervix looks like. So then I was in my head about that.
This nurse was literally the nicest nurse I have ever had. She explained everything so well. She was kind. Gentle. It had all the ingredients to make it the most pleasant experience I had ever had.
Spoiler alert, it was not.
Don’t know what happened but the second I stripped the lower half of my body and scooted down the end of the bed, legs open, everything went to pot. I could literally feel my inner thigh muscles clenching, which is wild because the rest of me was shaking. I then remembered who I was and how the position I was in was never going to be conducive to anything productive so I tried to butterfly my legs. But the damage had already been done.
The nurse was lovely. The practitioner was trying her best but she did also keep telling me that she could feel how very unyielding my body was to the insertion of the speculum. Which was not helping the situation. No matter how many attempts at deep breaths I took or how much I tried to relax, it just was not happening.
So I had to call it and then while I was getting redressed I promptly burst into tears. Mostly in annoyance. I started beating myself up about it because the savage part of my brain decided to brand me a failure. I’d done it twice before, why couldn’t I do it again now? How hard can it really be, it’s not necessarily unnatural? The practitioner was doing it because she needed to practice and you deprived her of that practice. On and on it went so I just had a small breakdown in front of these women. On a Friday morning.
Anyway I rebooked the appointment, bought myself a coffee and then had a period.
The second time was much smoother because I went when I was ovulating (thereabouts) and not about to start a period. I had barely sat down before I got called in, so I had no time to get in my own head in the waiting room. The nurse was on her own this time so I didn’t have the image in my head that my best friend was about to learn what my cervix looked like. I only had to confirm the start date of my last period because she had asked all the other questions and explained everything (random, but related I didn’t go on Space Mountain because all the health warnings beforehand had me convinced that I had a kidney condition that meant I couldn’t ride it).
I remembered to butterfly my legs from the start. There was lube this time. There was a chill playlist playing the background.
Most importantly, I remembered to breathe this time. Funny how just a little breathwork can get you through things.
The whole appointment lasted 15 minutes and it only lasted that long because once it was over I had a whole (unrelated) conversation with the nurse.
I then picked up my celebratory coffee, walked the five minute journey back to my house and carried on with my day.
Anyway, if you’re due (or overdue) and able to, book your test.