I have something to get off my chest. No, it's not herpes, but it is HPV. That's right, I have a... a....a STD. Now before you get all Judge Judy on me, let me tell you a few things about human papillomavirus. It's the most common STD, yet no one, not even my microbiologist friends, seems to know much about it at all. Which is why I'm telling you all about it, partly because you need to know, but also because I don't want you to judge me. See, this blog is fun and informative (and a judgement-free zone). Check the facts:
- There's around 200 types of HPV. Some of them cause common warts. Some cause genital warts. I have one of the dozen "high risk" HPVs, that cause genital cancers, most commonly cervical. Cancer causing types do not cause warts (Important factoid: I don't have warts!)
- It is believed that up to 80% of sexually active people will have sexually transmitted HPV at some point in their lives. The majority of those people will fight off the infection without ever knowing they were infected. (Important factoid: Statistically speaking, 18 of our 23 followers, have had, do have or will have HPV).
- A persistent infection of high-risk HPV can cause changes in cells that without treatment, can turn into invasive cancer. A yearly Pap smear will find any abnormal cells well before that happens. (Important factoid: Ladies, get your smears!)
- There is no "HPV test". A Pap smear will find evidence of an infection months to years later. The time from active infection to clinically detectable disease make it difficult to determine which partner was the source of infection.
- Men have no symptoms (Important factoid: men are bastards) and the use of condoms does not fully protect against it. The virus is transmitted via skin/mucous membrane, meaning it can be transmitting by the junk that isn't covered/protected with a condom. (Important factoid: The only prevention is abstinence...)
- HPV vaccines only protect against two of the high-risk types, although they are the most common high-risk types.
- Over the summer I had an abnormal Pap smear on my yearly visit. Apparently protocol is to come back in a year.
- A couple months later, however, I had some major bleeding during sex. I'm not just talking residue, I'm talking blood spattered sheets (yeah, that wasn't embarassing or anything). I immediately called the doctor and then freaked the fuck out (this may have had something to do with the book I was reading, about aggressive cervical cancer). There was crying involved.
- A month later I have a colposcopy. As my gyno kept saying "I'm going to stain your cervix, then peer into you vagina to scrape the cells." She seriously kept saying "peer into your vagina." Emphasis on the "peer".
- She said the cells didn't look bad at all, whilst "peering". Have you ever laughed with a speculum in your vag? It's a weird feeling. I like my gyno, she makes me laugh while all up in my business.
- A couple weeks later she calls to schedule a biopsy. Son of a bitch. Turns out to be a superficial precancerous lesion. What scary words those are. I may have cried.
- I learn that the more they have to deteriorate the cervix, the harder it can be to have a full term pregnancy. I may have cried some more, while wallowing to Brandi Carlile.
- Violet convinces me to finally tell our mother. (I had been avoiding due to the whole bleeding during sex/STD thing). I call her and immediately start crying. What is it about mothers, they make you cry without saying a word.
- My type of aggressive biopsy required sedation (thank the good Lord!), an outpatient surgery. Such things require a person to take you home from the hospital. I cried again. I don't have a person here, why couldn't I just get in a cab?
- I made a wallowing playlist. I played it. I wallowed.
- I found a person, my friend Mary, who of course would take me but I was afraid to ask because she'd have to leave work to come get me. She's so great she insisted on going with me and sat with me pre-op.
- I had the option of being alert, but I said no, no, knock me the fuck out. As a posse followed my bed into the operating room I was kind of concerned that the number of people who have ever seen my whoha was about to jump up exponentially. The Valium helped that.
- I woke up wearing disposable underwear, a giant pad and killer cramps. I was offered Percocet. I took it, there was no need to be brave.
- After the cramps subsided, I honestly felt fine, just wicked tired. The worst part of it all wasn't the "no sex for 3 weeks" (hello, I'm single, I can do that in my sleep!), it was the "no tampons (or diva cup)" rule. Want to feel like a sixth grader? Wear pads. What an awful period that was.
- I'm still waiting for the pathologist reports, if all is well I'll just have to get Pap smears a couple times a year (my gyno has the most intimate relationship with my lady parts right now).
I told this all to my friend 8-year-Lisa and she just keeps dwelling on the HPV part. "It's not about the HPV, the problem now are the cells, not the HPV. I have an STD, get over it." But really she is the 20% of the population that will never get HPV. She's been with one guy that has only ever been with her. She's safe. She may also be confused because she's under the impression that I'm waaaaay more innocent then I am. No, I don't know who gave me HPV, nor do I know who I've given it to since. I'm not going to make phone calls to every guy I've slept with to tell them I have it. Besides that being the single most uncomfortable experience ever, what's the point? They can't do anything about it. If condoms don't help, what the hell am I supposed to do, just not have sex? This is what I get for being the slut of the blog, but if I'm going to be punished for sluttiness, I wish I was a hella more slutty.
