Lord Lucan

The cervical screening agency have, presumably, been firing out my reminder letters to… someone. Judging by the plaintive tone of the letter I eventually received from my practice nurse, they must have been sending me exploding-speculum howlers.

I dutifully made an immediate appointment and bowled up on time, feeling virtuous. Our practice nurse is an old acquaintance and we were chatting merrily right up until she cranked open the speculum and went in search of my cervixes. Cervi. Cervices. Whatever.

There are a handful of medicos – lucky people! – that have had the opportunity of becoming reasonably au fait with my cleverly different

uterine didelphys construction: practice nursey is one of them.  A seasoned professional in any case, and veteran of several Voyages with Bow, Rod, Staff and Speculum along the Wifey reproductive bits, she had the forethought to prepare two vials, and two scrapy-things. And that’s where her carefully-laid plans went agley, because it seems that things downstairs have… really changed.

Bless the woman: she was down there an age. A 2010 age is about 15 minutes, I think.

Unflustered yet struggling, she gave me a running commentary of her difficulties with my recalcitrant cervi, during which time her complexion moved several shades towards Hard Labour and her neatly wound bun came several straggles nearer to Through A Hedge Backwards.   

She said it’s a good job she absolutely knew there were definitely two to begin with.

Apparently, one of them has fucked off.

Instead of a neatly-presented duo, I now have an enormous cyclops-like cervix (“It’s definitely had a baby, that one.”) that pops cheerily into view whenever the speculum is opened – and point-blank refuses to move outta the damn way and let its smaller sister have her share of glory daylight. The sadly concertinaed state of my innards following Harry’s bazooka-like launch to Infinity and Beyond, plus internal scar tissue that no longer sits pertly in its proper place, contributed to make my left-hand cervix a far more accomplished hider than the average great train robber.

I DID wonder why locum GP had seemed so nonplussed last Spring. Philogynae didn’t seem to have a problem during his delve about, but he was packing more sets of stirrups than an OCD hoarding John Wayne AND he had a natty array of pube-scorching floodlights AND a handy foot-rest half-way up the wall AND a stout-hearted assistant.

‘But they used to be together!‘ she cried mournfully, after yet another failed rummage. ‘I could see them so clearly! They were unmistakable!’

Poor woman. I did my best to be helpful and encouraging, particularly mid-smear when she was utterly flummoxed as to which side Cyclops actually resided.

‘Give it a prod!’ I urged her.


‘Right hand one!’ I announced.

It gave her a frame of reference, at least, but no glimpse of my lesser-spotted cervix was to be had what.so.evah. 

She gave up in the end, on the premise that she felt she had prodded me about more than enough, and both her scrapy-things (which have become extra scrapy of late, I noted) were covered in blood.

‘I never thought I’d not be able to find your cervix!’ she said, shaking her head over the paperwork. I resisted the urge to pat her shoulder.

‘Never mind,’ I said, as I opened the door to the backlogged waiting room. ‘I’ve lost worse things.’


Following a Comedy of Unfunny Stuff, I now have an appointment on the 25th with my Consultant – who has seen my exceedingly peculiar (ME? Quelle surprise!) cardiac report and, by the sound of it, has officially Had Kittens. She wants to See Me In Clinic.

Way to reassure a girl.

So, I expect there will be No Surgery For Wifey until Consultant has hurled me through a CT scanner – which is a pricey piece of kit and awfully popular with the cerebrally Catastrophically Unfortunate at all hours of the night and day. Hence, I am not expecting any exciting imaging action anytime soon and I’ll then have to wait for surgery all over again.

Did I mention I was 35?

13 Responses

  1. Oh dear. That is all very unfortunate and uncomfortable.
    Poor Wifey.

    Sorry about the further maddening delay on the operation. Goooordon Bennet! You’re very stoic and so funny about it.
    ‘I’ve lost worse things.’
    BUT STILL! So frustrating.

  2. Oh, Twangy, thank God!

    I thought I’d Shared Too Much and scared you all away!

  3. I don’t know if I’m glad that my exams are not so interesting or if I wish they were, as there are obviously great opportunities for hilarity. The poor nurse – that’s probably the hardest she’s worked in ages!

    I am somewhat surprised that they haven’t locked you in a glass case for medical students yet.

    Good luck getting your scan and then surgery completed quickly!

  4. De-lurking because I don’t want you to think you scared everyone off. Now it has brought someone out of hiding.

    I’m sure it’s a small consolation and that your wacky innards are a complete pain in the ass, but they sure do make for good blogging. Fingers crossed that things move faster than expected and that the excellent gyno will be able to hunt Lucan down.

    *I googled “Lord Lucan” since my American self wasn’t familiar with him. Fascinating. I love real life murder mystery stuff, so thanks for that. Murder + Aristocracy + Fugitive = True Crime Jackpot

  5. Not scared me away either although have to say kudos to the practice nurse for trying so hard. Sorry that your innards are causing delays but better to get a full picture now I reckon.

  6. >>>”I DID wonder why locum GP had seemed so nonplussed last Spring.”<<< I read this and fell over laughing. What must he have thought? 'She thinks she has TWO? What? Where?'

    So Cameron has taken her starring role as Harry's Uterus to heart and shoved Blair into a corner? I have been drinking G&T's, so am not coherent enough (but definitely tipsy enought) to work this up into a funny-yet-appropriate 'NOBODY puts Baby in the corner' joke. Damn.

    Which reminds me, must go and let myself be scraped. I always end up bleeding and feeling put-upon. Your ordeal has pretty much briskly shaken me by the shoulders and told me to stop being such a flippin' wimp. Even I can find my own cervix, after all. Oops, did I just type that out loud?

    Will make a note to think of you on the 25th. My God, but this is all turning into an Epic Saga, isn't it? 'Before you can reach the Castle of TTC, young hero, and fight the Dragon-Lord of Infertility, you must conquer the Demon of Adenomyosis, but to reach the Demon in his lair, you must rescue the Cardiac Key from the Dungeon Keep of NHS Bureaucracy, and to do that, you must pass through the Tunnel of CT Scan…'

  7. Didn’t scare me away! I tiptoed over here from MFA Mama and was lurking in a non-stalkerish way but am de-lurking to tell you that you are a fantastic writer. But of course you knew that already. OK. Well. Rats, I’m sorry that nasty things are happening to you. Wishing you much better…

  8. My last pap smear was performed by my very reluctant Ob who said ‘are you SURE you need one?’.

    I mean, the poor man was all in my business on a weekly basis with all the prem labour stuff, but a speculum was clearly a bridge too far.

    Just imagine if he’d copped YOU 🙂


  9. Welcome to the world of hiding cervices! Of all the things to lose though!

    Hope all goes well with the consultant.

  10. Love your humour! It’s an awful experience though isn’t it. Having your bits displayed in public to prodding instruments is no joke. Great post.

    CJ xx

  11. Snort! Oh my. Oh dear. I almost feel bad for laughing, because it’s really not such a laughing matter, but you’re just so FUNNY!

    Give. It. A. Prod.


    Those scrape-y things HAVE gotten scrape-y-er…I swear it! My last Pap was VERY uncomfortable…when I say “last” I say it wistfully, by the way, because supposedly my cervix was a casualty of the Steviction, at least according to my surgeon it was, but then when I went back to the doctor for a post-op check and the nurse peered in there searching for the source of my discomfort she said “well your cervix looks fine,” and I said “CERVIX??? I don’t HAVE one anymore!”

    There followed several terse moments wherein she assured me that she knew her business and was looking at a cervix, I assured HER that the surgeon had removed the bloody thing, the surgeon waffled a bit and said something about a “cervical stump” (!!!) and I was informed that I had not, after all, had my last Pap ever.


  12. Not scared away, just away.. but back now and catching up. I am still mesmerized by the things your body comes up with – “I’ve lost worse things”, indeed. You do make me laugh. I wish I could think of those snappy comebacks when I need them. I’m off to read the next 2 posts now, so perhaps you’ll hear from me again today.

  13. i’m late to the party, but i did bring two cervices of my own, so that’s got to count for something.

    i also have two vaginae, which in all the years prior to my consulting dr. google and then arriving at a gyn office armed with my own diagnosis, no one ever noticed in an exam. even when i told the new doctor what i had, he assured me that i didn’t — he could tell without even examining me, evidently. (he did turn a neat color when i followed up with “i can put two fingers inside and they don’t touch.”)

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