Thursday, July 19, 2012
It all started with a few abnormal pap smears back in college. Nothing to be too concerned about. Then, while pregnant with William, my doctor suggested a cone biopsy to remove the questionable bits that my pap smears were picking up. Again, I didn't think it was anything I needed to be too concerned about. Right after William was born we moved, though, and following up on the status of my cervix wasn't a priority. Surviving life with a new born was all I could focus on. And, sadly enough, it wasn't until my pregnancy with Madeleine that the issues even landed on my radar again. I switched doctors half-way through my pregnancy with Madeleine due to the care I wasn't receiving from the first set. And it was my new doctor, at the new clinic, that picked up on the severity of the situation. The results from the pap smears and the colposcopy both had the doctor concerned enough to send me to the Gynecological Oncology unit at our local hospital. Nothing strikes fear into your heart than the word "oncology." Especially 5 months pregnant. I cried, in the car, by myself, after my appointment with my doctor. I realize he was trying to make sure that everything was fine with me and my baby, but I was shaken.
The oncologist, a wonderfully kind man, found a few spots that looked "questionable." And after my pregnancy with Madeleine I went in again. After a rather painful biopsy we found moderate dysplasia on one section of my cervix. For all of you who don't know what that means, it's the second of three stages of precancerous cell development on your cervix. Not great news, but, at least it wasn't cancer. It just could be. And, as my doctor informed me, seeing as there were questionable cells at the first pregnancy he didn't want to wait to take care of it. He scheduled a LEEP procedure at the hospital which would remove all possible cell tissue on the surface of my cervix.
Yesterday was the big day. And, although routine, and not a very long procedure, I was still nervous--the last time I went under I didn't have a very pleasant experience coming out. Everything went well, though. I spent the whole day recovering from the general anesthesia--yuck. I snuggled with my babies and tried to hydrate myself. Andrew kept asking if I needed to go back to the bedroom and rest (away from climbing toddlers and chirping newborns). "They're my little batteries!" I kept telling him. They are the reason that yesterday was a good day, a new day, a day without threat or worry on the horizon.
My mother is good about minimizing events like this. And I can't help but feel a little hesitant about posting on the subject. But, it's big for me. And it was big for my family. And I can't help but be eternally thankful that I had a doctor who spotted the progression of the cells before they turned cancerous.