Dialogue summarized, not word-for-word
I’m standing at the kitchen counter scrolling through social media and peering at the clock on the stove. My phone chimed: ten minutes. That’s how long it will take for me to get to my internship; I have five minutes left. Switching between a cold metal spoon of vanilla Greek yogurt and a luke-warm, half filled mug of Kroger brand coffee, the sound of a high pitched UFO soundtrack fills the room. I left my phone on for the first time in a long time. It’s my doctor’s office. I’m thrown off.
I answered curious about what they wanted. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Amber?” It’s the secretary I’ve spoken with before. I confirm my identity and she asks if I have a few minutes.
I stare at the clock again. I need to leave, but it’s my doctor’s office. “Yeah, a few minutes.”
“We have the results of your pap in,” she started. I tried to remember what my doctor had said. Would they or wouldn’t they call me if something was wrong? Did they call in both instances? Was it like Planned Parenthood, where they only call if something is wrong? I had forgotten I even got a test done. She continues, “and you tested positive for HPV.”
Panic is the first instinct. Stay calm, ease through the conversation, listen to what they say. My eyes are widened, and I’m staring at the fridge unable to blink. I had been caught putting leftover breakfast away to eat later. I could talk and drive at the same time, I was going to leave. I was about to leave. Why didn’t I leave? I didn’t have a few minutes, but now I have plenty of minutes because I can’t move while every fact I can think of about HPV is searched for in the crevices of my brain. She wasn’t done.
“HPV 16.” What do the numbers mean? “It’s a higher risk strain of HPV…” I can already hear my doctor from the years and years of sitting in his office while I refused the Gardasil vaccine. It prevents HPV, which can lead to cervical cancer. Cancer. Cancer? I know why it’s considered high risk. She finished, “…that can lead to cervical cancer.” Breath. In, out, calm, focus on the conversation.
But my body feels weird. I woke up warm in bed surrounded by my mountain of pillows and blankets. They held my body in a peaceful bliss and I left them without a single impurity in my body. Between the two moments my body was physically the same. Nothing had changed, this is how it’s been since I left the doctor’s office those many weeks before. Except it is different. My stomach feels small and light like it’ll fly away. Deeper inside my uterus is crying out about what this means and what’s going to change. It screams in pain with the knowledge of worst case scenarios and what if possibilities. Breath.
“Okay.”
She starts into the next steps of what to do and sounds calm the entire time. She explains that it’s common, and a referral can be set up for a gynecologist in town. Surely the same woman they’ve referred me to before. She’s nice; I like her. A biopsy will have to be done to check abnormal tissue, and from there will be handled according to the situation. That sounds easy enough. I would even schedule an appointment for that day, cancel everything. Clear my plate, strike out my classes, I’m making an appointment. Except I can’t. I’m not in Maine. That referral means nothing. I tell them.
“Is there a provider in Ohio you would like us to make a referral to?”
“No, I don’t know who accepts my insurance.” The panic has come back.
“When do you plan on being back in Maine?”
“August.”
“We can schedule something for August, but it would be best to be seen sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah, I’d like to be seen sooner.” Different possibilities that all sound like dead ends are popping up in my thoughts. I don’t expect to get anywhere, but I can ask. It never hurts to ask. She asks me what I want to do. “I’m going to think it all over.” That’s an acceptable answer and more than likely a popular one.
When the conversation is over and I put my phone down I’m ready to cry but I don’t know if I want to. I’m late to my internship. I promptly text that I’m not coming in. It isn’t professional, but I don’t feel professional either, hiding under my three-quarter sleeve dark green sweater, plain white t-shirt, and denim. I look the part at least. I thought I got dressed for a day of hanging art and cleaning the gallery. Instead, I had put my hair up and donned matching jewelry to listen to a diagnosis I had forgotten even existed.
With a shaking hand and another exhale, I grabbed my almost empty coffee mug decorated in cheerful morning flowers, my laptop from the counter, and relocated myself to the living room to begin as much research as I can on what’s happening.
I learned:
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HPV is the most common sexually transmitted infection (STI). In fact, it’s so common that almost all sexually active men and women get it at some point. 79 million adults have HPV. There are different types of HPV that range from causing genital warts to cancers.
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There is a vaccine, but it’s preventive, not a cure. Gardasil and the newest Gardasil 9 are a series of shots that help prevent multiple strains of HPV and can be administered in men up to age 21 and women up to 26. It’s recommended though if you are a man who has sex with other men, or have partners who do, to get vaccinated by 26 as well.
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It can spread even if the infected person has no signs or symptoms. Even having sex with only one person puts you at risk, and symptoms can develop years after being with someone who is infected making finding the source difficult.
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In most cases, HPV goes away on its own and doesn’t cause health problems. When it doesn’t go away is when issues arise like genital warts and cancer. Cancer can take years or decades to develop after someone gets HPV and the strains that cause cancer are different than the ones that make warts.
Fortunately, there sounds like more positives than negatives to my state of being. I still face the number that carries a higher risk, but my immune system isn’t weakened, and learning it’s popularity makes handling it easier. There is a chance yet. The statistics are alarming, but the number of people who get over it is just as reassuring. From my point-of-view, I suggest that everyone get tested when they have the chance to make sure they’re healthy, and making smart decisions about sex.
Update: After contacting my insurance company I now have coverage in the local area.
Facts taken from: https://www.cdc.gov/std/hpv/stdfact-hpv.htm