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She unleashed a small lamp and started adjusting it. It looked somewhat like a ring light. I remember thinking to myself ‘What in the Only Fans is going on? Do you really need to see THAT bad?’ . I could feel blood rush to my face. I’m sure my cheeks were flushed. It happens a lot, they turn all pink and everything. When I’m blushing, when it’s hot, when I’m embarrassed, like I was feeling in that moment. Turns out there’s places that the sun may not shine, but a doctor’s version of a ring light (read examination lamp) will. Her assistant will be the one operating it. Adjusting it, moving it closer, then stepping back to see her work (and you). Then she will take a step towards you and continue adjusting until she’s satisfied. All while you’re laying there, exposed. Naked (Well, half naked seeing you’re stripped from the waist down)

It helped that the gynecologist was a very nice lady, I wish I could remember her name. “This is a speculum. This is what we use to open up the cervix”

“This is called a cyto brush. It’s what we use to get the sample”

“This is lube..” Surely, you don’t expect me to explain this as well.

She was explaining every single thing. It kind of made me relax. Only it didn’t because no sooner had she started the procedure, than she asked me to cough 😅.

Here’s the thing about such coughs, they’re not polite. It’s not cute girly cough that you’re trying to hold back because you don’t want to disturb people or you’re in a crowded place. They ask you to cough like you’re trying to bring up a part of your lung. Like you were drinking water and it attempted to get into the wrong hole. Like your saliva is trying to kill you and it chokes you out of nowhere. The kind of cough you unleash when you choke on rice. Your life flashes before your eyes, and just before you start calling your relatives to say goodbye, the wretched grain(s) decide to use your nostrils as an exit. That cough.

So I put my back, heart and soul into that cough.

“You don’t have kids, right?”

I chuckled. That whole scene was amusing to me. Asking me if I have children while I am in that position (he he)

“No. You can tell?”

“Yes”

Isn’t the human body amazing? That you can tell if a lady has had babies or not by simply looking at her cervix. I almost asked her ebu nione. But I’m not sure what I would be looking at/ for.

Just before she opened up the speculum “You’ll feel a little discomfort”

These words come from the same production house that says your boobs get sore when you’re PMSing. Are you sure it’s not pain? Why do my eyes automatically tear up when approaching rumble strips? You could say it’s a me problem, but I have tonnes of testimonials from women all over the world. Well, my world. Look, it’s uncomfortable enough dealing with the speculum. The part it opens up? Argh. Unpleasant as a verb does not do enough justice to describe that experience.

And that is a disposable speculum. It’s made of some material that I can only describe as really hard plastic (I could be wrong). Can you believe that for years they’ve been using reusable ones? Reusable as in they clean, disinfect and sterilize it before using on another patient. Yeah! Collect your jaw from the floor. You’d be very surprised at how many reusable medical consumables there are. The reusable version is stainless steel and gnarly looking (Okay, it looks the same as the the disposable one. I think it’s more intimidating because of the material). Autoclaving seems to be the most recommended method. This is where saturated steam under pressure is used to sterilize things. Like heat that’s wet. Kind of like a pressure cooker that instead of boiling meat and cereals, boils the microorganisms to death. They use autoclaves for this purpose. I almost explained what autoclaves are but this feels like I’m spoon feeding you. Consider this your homework. Go and read about autoclaves. I’ll collect it tomorrow. Do you think they warm this speculum a little bit or it just goes in with the temperature of Kinangop at 3:00 am on a cold, misty July morning? Some places still use this type, by the way. Someone point in their direction so I can avoid them.

The good news is that it takes a few minutes before everything is over. Thank heavens. This was my second time to go for a pap smear. Ever. It made me feel like such a functional adult. Me? Booking an appointment for a check up? Not because I am sick? It doesn’t get adultier than that. I was alone too. Man, I’m really hacking this whole adulting thing. Contact me for more tips 😅

January is Cervical Cancer Awareness Month. It was Edith’s idea. Edith is one of my closest friends. Everyone in my family knows Edith. Everyone in my extended family knows Edith. Wangechi knows Edith 😅. In fact, Edith mafans wanasema umewatupa sana. Do something. There was a notice that said a certain clinic was offering pap smears at discounted rates because well, awareness month. Edith said “Let’s take advantage of this offer. Let’s go for this thing”

I said “Say no more. Let us. We’ll offer each other moral support and hold each other’s hands” (Okay, I didn’t say this. But for the sake of this story, let’s say I did)

So on a Friday evening, after work, as people prepared to shake off the week’s stresses and frustrations, or celebrate the week’s wins or do whatever it is that people like to do on Friday, Edith and I made our way to the clinic.

It was empty when we got there. Of course it was empty. Nobody is willingly going to sit in a hospital on a Friday evening. Not unless you’re fighting for your life. Bars are full, public service vehicles are full, streets are full, the whole world is full, everywhere is full. Everywhere except that light grey (or was it white?) walled room on 11th floor.

The way this clinic is set up, the walls are very thin. Literally. If the doctor preferred to yell rather than talk, they could have communicated very effectively with the lady manning the reception area. An elderly nurse was the one collecting the sample. She must have been at least 50 or late 40’s. I’m terrible at estimating people’s ages. It gave me some weird ‘she’s probably done this for years’ comfort. I use the same criteria to pick nduthis by the way. I’ll always look for the older ones. Someone who looks like he has tasted, probably drunk from the well of adrenaline and now has no need for it. Like when you eat too much of something and now, even the thought of it makes you sick. Nauseous. Gag. Yuck. The way Israelites told God, man, we’re grateful for this manna but it sucks now. Moses was so pissed. He told God “You know what? Just kill me. Kill me instead of having to deal with these ungrateful ass people any more” (Seriously. Not in those exact words, obviously. But go read the Good Book. Numbers 11:4-15)

If I do choose a younger nduthi rider, it will be because I have no choice. I’ll always go for one who has protective gear in this case. At least have a helmet. No loud music. It’s very embarrassing to be on a nduthi and it’s blaring music. I also generally don’t like noise. Not in a nduthi, not in a matatu (and especially not in the morning. No noise in the morning please ) No bloodshot eyes. No, you cannot smell like last week’s liquor is still in your system. And for the love of God, you cannot look (or smell) like you have not seen water in a couple of days.

Anyways, back to my story. I don’t know why they leave the room when you’re undressing like they will not come back to shove and poke and prod. There was a step stool to help you get on the examination bed. On it, white disposable bed spread. This is like a giant roll of tissue, a bit heavier in texture. They usually change it after every patient. If you go for waxing at a decent place, it’s the same one they use on the beds. I went in before Edith. I remember staring at the ceiling and trying to focus on everything but the procedure.

She was very reassuring. Telling me the procedure won’t take long. Telling me to relax. It’ll end faster if you relax. She was nice but not motherly. Just doing her job. Not coddling like a mother would. I appreciated it all the same. She almost congratulated me when she was done

“See? You’re all done. That wasn’t so bad, right? ” (It was)

You see how in children hospitals, especially dentists, always have something to appease patients when they’re done? A balloon? A toy to distract them that they later take away? A play area? They should find something for adults too. Like shots. I could’ve used one (or more) then.

Edith went in after me. I was seated in the reception waiting area. The chairs arranged in a semicircle, facing the front desk. The doctor’s room on my left. I was bent over my phone, as we all do any time we get a free minute. Scrolling. Liking. Reposting. The usual. It was quiet in that room. Outside, dusk was settling in, a few cars were starting to put on their headlights, the neon signs hanging from various business premises were more visible now. Music from nighclubs pouring out in the streets to attract more revellers. Nighclubs themselves were spilling out on the streets, setting up more tables and chairs. Amidst all these shenanigans, I heard Edith cough.

I could have ignored it and continued to scroll, but then she coughed again and again and again. She really coughed. So much that a part of me wanted to barge in and perform CPR. (I’m lying. The most I could have done is scream or start crying). I’m sure we came for a check up, why was she sounding like her lungs are not working? What the hell were they doing to her in there?Nitaambia watu nini? By then I was looking up and around, my phone long forgotten, looking around frantically to see if anyone was going to help. But the only other person who was there, at the reception, remained unmoved. Nobody moved. Like the cough that sounded like someone was literally dying was normal to them. I figured if everyone is calm, maybe I should be too. After all, we are in a hospital if anything happens.

I relaxed back in my seat but I couldn’t scroll anymore. I was waiting for my Edith to come out. She did. I almost ran towards her, arms outstretched. She’s alive!! You would think these events took hours to unfold. Nope. 10 – 15 minutes. It’s faster if you don’t need to cough 😅😅

“Gai. Why were you coughing so much?”

By the time she was done telling me that story, I was probably crying. Tears of laughter. It cracked me up so much. Of course I went and told her about my coughing experience we had a good laugh about it too. Her and a bunch of other girls. I love girlhood because we can share such experiences, as raw as they are and nobody will judge the other.

“Did you bleed after?”

“Yeah. There was spotting. You?”

“Nah. I was okay”

“How was the pain on a scale of one to 10?”

“15. I cried like a baby. I think I was even screaming”

I have a friend who had a really terrible experience. It was her first time and she was in so much pain she literally could not go to work the next day. And this is after lying down for hours after the procedure. They had to give her a bed to recuperate. All that suffering and they had the nerve to call her and tell her the sample ‘was not enough’ and she needed to do it again. I tried to convince her to go, even it means finding another option and she completely refused. I don’t blame her though. I totally get it. She swore she’s never going back. I haven’t given up on her though. I’m giving her time to heal then I will slowly bring up that conversation again. Wish me luck.

I hope as technology advances, they will find a less intrusive way to screen for cervical cancer. I know the male version DRE (Digital Rectal Exam) is equally intrusive but at least men have the option of a PSA (Prostate-Specific Antigen) blood test. I would love to write more about it but let’s circle back in September. That’s when Prostate Cancer Awareness Month is marked, blue ribbon. Some websites call it light blue. When you post a comment on any of my posts, I see it in the background (You’ll see where I’m going with this. Just stay with me). Then I have to approve for it to be published, then I can reply. I can throw it in the trash too so nobody will know. Your contacts will be safe. I’d love to talk to a man who’s experienced DRE. Hear a man’s point of view. Are you that guy? Do you know a guy? Leave a comment. An email. A number. I’ll get back to you. Holla at your girl.

Cervical cancer is marked with a teal ribbon. Teal is that colour that looks blue and green at the same time. The colour of ocean water. Google it. If you’re colour blind, I don’t know what to tell you. Gentlemen, encourage the ladies in your life to get screened. Hell, accompany her. Don’t go in. That’s why they have a waiting room. Then take her to a nice dinner after that. (She”ll probably just want to go home though.) Or get her a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Or chocolates. She’s your woman. You know what works for her.

Ladies, take care of yourselves and each other. Book that appointment. I know a lot of healthcare facilities offer screening at subsidized prices, especially in January. Get a friend mchochane. You’ll be each other’s support systems. The world may think your friendship is superfluous (This is an inside joke. Edith will get this 😅. Edith and a couple of other ladies) but behind the scenes, you could be saving each other’s lives.

Finally and a disclaimer, I am not a doctor or any form of health care provider. I dropped biology in form two. Everything I’ve posted here I learned in my line of work, did a little reading or lived it through experience. Could be my experience. Could be somebody else who shared their experience with me. This means there’s a chance that I could be wrong on something(s). I stand corrected.