And Now For Something Completely.... Personal

I'm going to preface this post by saying:

A) This is probably more than anyone wants to know about me
B) This is incredibly personal and specific information
C) This post may contain discussion that is disturbing to some, so I won't feel bad if you decide to skip it.
And D) If I don't write it down, its going to drive me insane (it may anyway), and this is my primary writing outlet at the moment, so I'm putting it here.

Last year I was diagnosed with Cervical Dysplasia, CIN3. For those of you who don't understand the totally vague and seemingly arbitrary medical terms, that means that I had pre-cancerous cells growing on my cervix. The cause? That nasty little HPV thing that's being splattered all across the television and news lately. Apparently there's a vaccine for it now. Not that that does me any good, because I already have the damned thing, and the vaccine only keeps you from getting it if you don't already have it. If only they'd have come up with that vaccine sooner...

In any case, last year I went through the biopsy, and then went through a very icky surgical procedure to have those pre-cancerous cells removed. This particular surgery, called a conization, was just one of the options on the table for treatment. If the cells were too deep, my other option was a hysterectomy. Thankfully, the cells weren't too deep, and all that was needed was the conization. I went back after that surgery, and everything seemed fine, the surgery was successful, blah blah blah.

Fast forward to approximately 2 months ago, when I started feeling like shit for no apparent reason. I had a lowgrade fever that was making me not hungry, dizzy, and nauseated. I went to the doctor. They didn't know what was wrong, but ran some tests, and then sent me to a specialist thinking it might be a thyroid problem.

Still no answers there. Fine. Run some more tests. Get my annual Pap test done.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I get a phone call from the lovely woman physician's assistant (who seems more capable than any normal doctor I've ever been to see, by the way) that did my pelvic exam. The Pap test found abnormal cells. Again. She's referring me to an ob/gyn.

The last time I went through all this, it was hard. It was a complete surprise, and I wasn't prepared for any of it, didn't know anything about anything about it, had to do tonnes and tonnes of research on my own to try and understand what in the fuck was going on.

As hard as last time was, this time is even worse. Why? Because now I know exactly what I'm in for. I know that if the biopsy comes back with pre-cancerous results, then I'm probably in for a hysterectomy simply because the dysplasia has re-occurred, and that means I have the highest of high risk strains of HPV, and it will just keep re-occurring until it turns into full fledged cancer, or I die (whichever comes first).

I've been saying for a long time that I didn't want to have any more kids; that one rug rat was enough. I've been saying that. I haven't really been meaning it. I absolutely adored being pregnant with my son. I'd love to be able to have another baby, especially if it was a girl.

The only reason I've been convincing myself that I don't want any more kids is because I know that in order to have them, I'd have to be way more financially stable than I am now and that I'd have to go off of the medication I currently take daily to stay sane. I don't think its realistic for me to think about having another child, so I'd been trying to make myself think about getting my tubes tied instead.

But now I'm looking at that choice being made for me. And somehow that makes it worse. I wanted to be able to make the choice. It's my body. I should get to choose. As much as I hate periods, they're a reminder that I'm a woman, and I can make babies if I want to. To lose that... Will I be less of a woman? Or will I just feel that way? I know it seems like a stupid question to ask... But think about it this way. If I were a guy, instead, we'd be talking about cutting off my balls. Talk about immasculating right? Right. Point made.

I am scared. I am angry. I am sad. I am beyond sad actually. I'm full on depressed. And I feel most totally and completely alone.

And the BF has no comforting things to say to me. Him of all people... There were no reassurances that everything would be alright. There were no admonishions for me to not worry. Hell, even the asking me what was wrong when I got off the phone wasn't comforting. Instead of a caringly worried "what's going on?" I got a "what's up?" in an annoyed tone of voice that left me wanting to do nothing but punch him in the face instead of explain.

Of course, that's all typical of him. He's distant. He doesn't say "I love you." He doesn't get all sappy or emotional. And most of the time that's just fine with me. But in life threatening situations... The normal rules don't exactly apply, and I need more -- more that I shouldn't have to ask for. If I have to ask, it makes me feel like I'm only getting what I'm asking for because the person giving it feels obligated... Not because they actually want to give it. And that just makes me feel worse -- like I'm some sort of imposition, or burden to be dealt with only if it complains too loudly.

*sigh*