When you turn 21, the main thing that pops into your head is being able to legally drink. For women, another thing that comes creeping around at the age of 21 is the pap smear. It’s not as fun as drinking.
For the last few years, I had personally been against getting a pap smear; at least at 21, I wanted to wait a little longer. How much longer is ‘a little?’ I didn’t know. However, as someone who has always cared about sexual health, I knew this was something that was better for me to do sooner rather than later. It’s a different journey for everyone, and regardless, it is always a choice.
I had hesitations when it came to getting a pap smear, and I think that all of them are valid. For starters, the tool they use to open the vagina is not pleasant looking – it’s giving medieval. The thought of being spread eagle to a stranger and being prodded was not fun for me.
It doesn’t help that I have sexual trauma either.
I gathered whatever courage I had and made the call for the appointment. Phew, the first step is over. I was mentally preparing to get my pap smear in a few days when I got my period which postponed the appointment into the next week.
I tried not to think about the approaching date, and honestly, it wasn’t hard. It’s easy to let certain things not be at the forefront of your mind when your mind is already moving at a mile a minute.
The day did arrive though, and I braced myself. I was nervous, and kind of scared. I entered the building, checked in and waited.
When my name was called, I did a standard check-up of my blood pressure, height and weight. All the while still considering backing out.
I was led into a room by a nurse who asked me if I had any questions. Yes, do you have lubrication? Instead, I just voiced that I was nervous and tried to hold back the tears I felt forming. She looked at me blankly, and told me that there was nothing that I needed to be nervous about. She then showed me what I was supposed to change into and told me to get undressed from the waist down.
The nurse left the room and I did what was instructed. I must’ve sat there for almost 10 minutes, the time seemed to go so slow. Finally, the doctor came in. She greeted me and confirmed that I was here for my first pap-smear. She brought the nurse in and told me to lay down to do a breast examination. I didn’t mind that, as I worry that I do it wrong myself.
As I was laying down, I tried to see if I could see exactly what they were going to use for the pap smear. I couldn’t really see anything and was kind of focused on having an opening to ask my question. Do you have lubrication? I thought again, scooting down the bed to get my legs in position.
I know about pap smears and how they work, for the most part. However, I thought and expected to be talked through about what was going to happen. I thought I would be shown their tools, walked through and guided through the process. I thought they would ask if I needed anything and then I could voice that I wanted them to use lubrication.
That’s not what happened. My legs were spread and all I was told was when they were about to do something because it might feel cold and to take deep breaths in and out. There was no “three, two, one”. Then what I believe was a cotton swab entered me and poked around. It was uncomfortable; I wanted to cry. I tried not to, and I didn’t. I focused on taking my deep breaths in and out. I wished my partner was there. I wished my friends were there. They weren’t; they were on campus unaware that I had made this appointment in the first place.
Whatever was inside me was extracted. I thought it was over, but I was mistaken. Dry gloved fingers were inserted inside me, checking around for pain. I didn’t feel any pain, only the feeling of discomfort. “Discomfort” and “uncomfortable” are the key words to my pap smear experience.
It was finally over. I got dressed and luckily didn’t have to pay as my insurance covered it.
Walking to campus, I felt violated. I still felt the ghost of the feeling of whatever tool they used to open me. Some people say that I signed up for this when I made the appointment, and while that is true, that does not mean it had to go that way.
I embraced my partner when I saw him and told him where I was. He held me through it and comforted me. Overall, it wasn’t a terrible experience. Would I do it again? I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that I will not let my fear override my needs again; especially not when it comes to my health as well as what makes me feel comfortable and safe.