Loss and Gain

There must be loss with any surgery, even with something as small as fixing an ingrown toenail and cleaning the nailbed. Some of it may simply have to do with losing inhibitions while the anesthetic kicks in. Some of it is a greater loss, even if the surgery is minor. Part of this loss comes from the surroundings; places of medical practice are confusing, with a great deal happening at once. People go to the same clinic whether having abortions or giving birth. The emotions mix. There's a little crying at the unknown, and confusion at the loss. But isn't getting rid of pre-cancerous cells a good thing? And a LLETZ procedure is surely not the most invasive, despite having your cervix on display. (It does help to have the doctor remember something about you, like the fact that you're studying Icelandic, so you know that he's not just interested in staring at your nether regions.) But the loss. The loss of evil cells. Cells will grow back, but not those cells. And a part of you wants to say, "But those are my cells. Those are my cells, and I don't want to get rid of them." Logic has not entirely left, though. Pre-cancerous cells must be obliterated. Logic understands that the action must be taken. What logic does not completely understand is the loss, the stupid loss that results in a little crying, insecurity, exhaustion, and the desire to not be alone, at least for a little while.

The worst part was the stench of burnt flesh during the cauterization process. And maybe my inability to say that I was going to the Colposcopy Clinic. "The building where physiotherapy is," I planned to say, should the cab driver ask. Same building, different floor. Nobody wants to hear about someone else's vagina, anyway.

Health is gained, if all went well. And I found out that I will be part of The Hiss Quarterly's Sticks & Stones issue, out in November. That is also a gain.