'My doctor says its cancer and tells me not to worry. Say what??'

Oh goody, my pap results are back. Said no-one, ever. I’m not the least bit concerned about my vaginal and cervical health (oh wow, did I really just write that). I don’t have a family history of cancer down south and it’s not on my secret list of life-threatening diseases.

Lungs top my hypochondriac list. I smoked like Kate Moss in my 20s and every flu season at the fist sign of a sniffle I visualise my little shrivelled-up sultana lungs. I’m not alone in catastrophising health problems.

My friend Lyn sizzled her fair British skin for five Australian summers and now every freckle and spot looks like a suspicious melanoma. My partner eats fast food, too fast: you guessed it, heart attack. (Oh wait. It’s just heartburn masquerading as a heart attack, that old chestnut!) I won’t go into my nan’s pearl-clutching constipation/bowel cancer stories.

Medical proof – shmoof! We all know what will get us in the end.

So there I was at the doctor’s surgery watching my GP clack away at his computer in that clumsy way doctors do and I’m thinking (not for the first time) ‘why aren’t GP’s better at using computers? Seriously!’

Finally, he claps his hands together, squints at the screen and says,

“Ah yes, you have a low grade squamous intraepithelial lesion, Mrs Thomas.”

“Oh, I see” is all I can manage. I’m acting all casual, like my low grade squammy something lesion was just what I was expecting to hear.

The GP looks pleased with my response and I’m pleased he’s pleased (I can’t help it! A hangover of mum’s doctor inferiority complex). So, I don’t say: “Is a lesion a cut? I saw a Tom Hanks movie where he had lesions from AIDS. OMG I must have misunderstood! Did I cut my cervix with a tampon? I don’t understand? What is this low grade squammy you speak of? Get it out!”

I take a deep breath and say: “So, can you tell me in lay terms what seems to be the problem?”

Without a word he goes back to computer clacking, this time to print my results … at least I think that’s what he is doing. He could be sending an email – it’s anyone’s guess. By unspoken agreement, I sit quietly and concentrate on not saying anything dumb.

After an ICE AGE he takes the printed transcript and doodles a little diagram of a cervix and fallopian tubes. I’m distracted because it looks just like one of those decor cow skulls. He adds a few Roman numerals, a dash and a blob. Ta-daa!

Medical mystery unravelled, folks. It’s all very simple. I have stage 1 cervical cancer but, he adds, “it’s really quite common and nothing to worry about, my low grade SIL has only a 12-18% chance of cervical cancer developing.”

Errr … ok? Say what?! Did he just say ‘don’t worry’ and ‘cancer’ in the same sentence? I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me to calm down it has the opposite effect. ‘Don’t worry’ same-same, possibly worse. I can’t just ‘un-worry’ on command.

Another deep breath and I pull myself together and think all this through. Apparently I just have ‘the non worrying stage 1, garden variety, low grade 12-18% chance of cervical cancer’. Phew. No problem. I get it. I don’t have a life threatening dash or blob. One of 3 things will happen. I’ll move to the next 2 and officially worry. I’ll remain at stage 1, or it will just go away. The ‘go away’ option is perfect, I’ll take it thanks doctor. I schedule another pap and that should be that.

BUT, I’m still bugged. If stage 1 is so common, how come I didn’t know about it? We’re talking about cancerous cells here people! I’ve been raised to kowtow to doctors and fear cancer. All cancer. I didn’t know anything about non-worrying cancers.

I need to get to the bottom of this.

According to the Cancer Council NSW website, the human papillomaviruses (HPV) is the major cause of cervical cancer in women.

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This virus is spread from person to person through genital skin contact. Basically it’s an STD, my friend Colin tells me. “It was all that rooting around in the Kate Moss days.” I think back to reckless sexual hijinks and the penny drops. OMG the 90s aka, the proverbial HPV hotbed!

The Cancer Council says that today, HPV is so common that it could be considered a normal part of being sexually active. Four out of five women will have HPV at some time in their lives. Wow.

It says most people with HPV don’t even know they are infected and never develop symptoms or health problems from it. Women like me find out when they get an abnormal pap test result. Others might only find out once they’ve developed more serious problems from HPV, such as cancers.

I don’t expect to be spoon-fed every little titbit about every disease, but I would have thought by the age of 40 I would have the heads up on this one. I had even enquired about the cervical cancer vaccine with my GP when I first heard it about it. The GP was quick to dismiss me. “It’s for young women” he said, “you’re too old and married, Mrs Thomas, don’t worry about it”. Not one to challenge the doctor, and with no real cause to question him, I left it at that.

Now my married, old cervix and I aren’t convinced not to worry. It turns out the vaccine isn’t just for young women, us oldies can get it but it costs about $408 and it’s not effective if you have or had the virus. Too late for me now.

It’s good news for the next gen of Schoolies. As part of the National Immunisation Program 12 – 13 year old girls AND boys get a free vaccine presumably before the genital on genital action in Surfers.

So here I am, not worried. Not because the doctor told me not to.

Sydney Psychologist, Francesca Harvey says “useful worry leads to planning, safety measures and acceptance. The other end of the spectrum is neurotic worrying that causes unhelpful anxiety and an inability to solve problems”.

I’ll take the low gradelow grade squamous lesion and the worry thanks doctor. I got this.

Melanie Thomas is a mother, writer and speaker. Mel educates girls and women about self defence and personal safety awareness and founded KYUP! Project – a grassroots initiative giving girls a voice.

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