Abnormal

I’ve been slightly MIA for a bit, but thankfully Laura is here to pick up my slack and keep everyone entertained and happy (not to mention well fed!)   The boys and I spent a really great weekend up in our great state’s capital visiting friends and family, and now I’m just trying to regain my footing a bit. Our house is a disaster, Gus’ sleep habits are pretty well shot, we have no food in the fridge… I’ve heard it said so often I roll my eyes when I hear it but, <cringe> I need a weekend to catch up from my weekend.

And as if that weren’t enough, I came home to a bit of disconcerting news.  So while I’d love to write about traveling with a toddler (I will!) and post pics of our weekend antics, instead I find myself really needing to write about something less fun.

First let me just say that I’m not a person who keeps her cell phone on her at all times.  In fact, before I had an iPhone and all the endless capabilities that it entails, I often let my phone languish with a dead battery at the bottom of my purse for days before reviving it and retrieving a barrage of messages (from my mom, I’m not that popular).  So it wasn’t unusual that I got the message on Saturday that my obgyn’s office left Friday asking that I call back.   No one wants to get a message like this two weeks after her latest pap smear. And it wasn’t from the front desk either. It was from my Dr.’s nurse.  Which really could only mean one thing. And while maybe it isn’t unusual for me to not hear a voicemail until it’s too late to return the call, it still made for a harrowing few days, anticipating the news I was sure to receive.

I called back yesterday morning and got what I expected.  Abnormal pap.  Come in soon for further examination.  Doctor will fill you in on the procedure and what it all means. 

I know this is common and I know that it’s probably nothing serious and I even know people who have gone through the same exact thing and for whom it was not the end of the world (though it may have seemed so at the time) and who have been very kind and open and full of good advice and have made me feel lots better already.   I know that the reason that we get these things every year is so that we can find out early if anything is amiss.  So don’t worry, I’m not in the throes of despair or incapacitated with worry or anything like that.  I’m not looking forward to making additional time for the Dr. and I have a particular hatred for specula… and, ok, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a teeny bit worried about what they’ll find, but I’m 95% content  crossing that bridge when I get to it.

But what’s getting me down, I think , is that I can’t shake off the specter of what it *could* be.  Maybe not today. Maybe not this particular abnormal test or this specific problem.  But I guess, it’s just this stark and galling realization that anything can happen.  That these things *do* happen.  They happen to healthy women and sick women and old women and young women and, maybe most horribly of all they happen to mothers.  And I have to admit to myself that it’s not completely out of the question that something dreadful could happen to me. 

So anyway I go in next Wednesday to get a colposcopy wherein my Dr. will closely examine my lady parts which is sure to be a wonderful experience that I’ll report back to you all on.  Until then I’m going to try to just shove it out of my mind and not indulge in the horrifying what-if visions that make me nearly hyperventilate with fear. 

And just so you know, I won’t always be this downbeat, I swear!  To prove it: Coming soon I’m going to put myself to the test to follow Laura’s kitchen planning advice, and share with you things that a seasoned traveler has learned about traveling in the last sixteen months.

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