How To Survive A Pap-Smear

A day and an age ago during my first term in college I took an English composition class. We had to write five short and sweet papers: Process/Analysis, Contrast/Comparison, Cause/Effect and so on. All of mine were terribly written because well, lets be honest here- I'm not a writer. I specifically chose odd and macabre topics to write about based on a few facts: 1/ We had to read them aloud in class and 2/ The subject matter would make the actual material written more heard/experienced and less seen (people wouldn't pay as much attention to the fact I was/am a crappy writer) based on the fact that I'm a very animated story teller. Basically, you can hand me any shitty paper to read aloud and those listening will think it's brilliant. It's all in the presentation.

My Cause/Effect was titled "The Black Death". It was written in first person style about a young man who lived through the bubonic plague in Italy during the year 1347. It was harsh, overly descriptive and elicited just the response I was looking for. My Process/Analysis paper was titled "How To Survive A Pap-Smear" a paper I was particularly proud of (tho not nearly as much as "The Black Death"). Certainly not because it was well written (the freshmen in my class had no clue what "well written" meant) but because of its shock value (as unshocking and censored as I felt it was/is) visits to the GYN aren't often publicly addressed in a room full of strangers. So here I offer you a freshmen's view of how to survive a pap-smear.

Aza Whatever
Professor Whoever
ENC1101, Process/Analysis Rough Draft
8 December, A Long Time Ago

How To Survive A Pap-Smear

Yes, it's that time of year again. The notice you received in the mail that arrived or the message on your voice mail today has informed you in a matter-of-fact manner that you're due for an "annual". There it is, psychology at its best- they use that term to soften the blow. Instantly your stomach twists in response. "Annual". The word itself seems harmless but you know better and since you know better, "annual" conjures images of medieval torture chambers. With your stomach now violently protesting you pick up the phone to make the appointment. What are you met with? A cheery voice on the other end all too pleased to schedule you. So begins the five steps to surviving a pap-smear.

Step one: After making your appointment, resist the urge to call all of your girlfriends and female family members to complain. They've been there and most probably do not wish to have images of their last "annual" resurrected. This rule applies to men as well. Any attempts at explaining the process will not be met with sympathetic ears. You will almost certainly ensure an immediate dial tone in reply. They don't understand; they don't want to understand.

Step two: When the day of the appointment arrives, contemplating ways out of it is futile. However, feel free to allow yourself to go with the process of making up every excuse you can dream of not to go; oddly this tends to be therapeutic. Do not cancel your appointment! Like many things in life, this is a necessary evil. With uterine, ovarian and cervical cancer being a potential alternative it is imperative that you keep your appointment.

Step three: Once you've arrived at the doctor's office and have successfully pried yourself out of your car you're halfway there! Swallow the arising panic attack, calmly check in at the front desk, seat yourself and wait to be called. Daydreams of slapping the chipper receptionist with the latest issue of People magazine, believing every man in the waiting room knows exactly why you're there, considering if the chair you are seated in is heavy enough to break a window for a quick escape are all completely normal thoughts.

Step four: Once you are called DO NOT run for the nearest exit! Take a deep breath and follow the technician. She or he is simply going to take your skyrocketing blood pressure, racing heart rate, temperature and yes, your weight. Upon stepping off of the scale you may feel an urge to spontaneously vomit- this too is completely normal, more deep breathing usually helps this sensation pass. You will then be led into a small, odd smelling sterile room, asked to disrobe and don a giant roughly textured piece of paper with armholes in it. They refer to this garment as a "gown". If the office is particularly warm, this "gown" will stick to you like wet Charmin. This too is a regular occurrence (especially during summer months). You will then be left to carry out the given tasks while agonizing over what is now inevitable.

Step five: Expect to wait a minimum of 45 minutes for the doctor to arrive. It is important to understand that you are not the only patient he or she is seeing that day and he or she must have time between patients to boondoggle around the office and tell his or her peers about the last weirdo he or she just examined. When the doctor finally walks into your room fully expect him or her to engage you in pointless chit-chat. He or she may even attempt to "break the ice" by telling a stupid joke. At this point the worst is nigh- do not freak out! Within 15 minutes this will all be over and you will have survived. Please note that during your exam is it not recommended that you laugh, cough or sneeze- speculums are known projectiles.

Congratulations, you made it! Once dressed you may now begin to regain what is left of your dignity (this may take as long as a week). When you arrive home, please refer to step one. No one is interested in hearing about cold stirrups, projectile speculums or cotton swab cultures.