Enforced rest and the NHS

I am on an enforced rest period. By 'rest period' I mean NO EXERCISE WHATSOEVER. Running is out, the gym is out and swimming is definitely 100% OUT - for at least 2 weeks. I'm not coping well with the idea of sitting on my backside for 14 whole days, but the reason behind it is actually rather serious.

I want to share it with you all, firstly so you give me a bit of sympathy if I put my Christmas weight on a month early, and also because it's something I feel quite strongly about (reasons why will become clear). I really hope no one is offended by this post as it's quite personal to me and I want to give an honest account of my experience.

*** Graphic descriptions coming up ***

Those of you who are females over the age of 25 will (hopefully) already be familiar with the dreaded 'smear test' letter:

'Hiya. Please come to your local doctors surgery ASAP so we can examine your vagina with a torch and poke around up there with a mini broom. See you soon! Love, the Doctor xoxox'

YAAAAAY. For those of you under the age of 25, it is nothing to fear and very important. I got my letter in June and kept saying I would book it but the thought of lovely Ann at the doctor's surgery sticking her head into my lady parts kept putting me off. I finally got round to it in August after top nagger Natalie Mott told me to get on with it (thank you Motty). We've all had worse things up there, after all.

My smear test was okay, nothing much to report on other than the fact I'd been to the hairdressers that day and the idiotic woman dyed my hair BROWN instead of blonde so I was a bit stressed and Ann reported that my vagina muscles were 'rather tense'. Can you really blame me Ann? My hair is horrendous and you're brushing at my bits with a broom! One quick swipe and it's all over. You have to wait around 4-6 weeks for test results so I assumed all would be good in the hood and completely forgot about it.

I got back from my holiday mid September and had a letter from the NHS. God bless the NHS - but no one likes to hear from them after a 3 hour delay in a Greek airport. The letter said that my smear test showed I had traces of the HPV virus in my cervix and they needed to remove it - WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? A quick Google (great idea) told me that the HPV virus is an infection picked up through sexual contact. WHAT THE FUCK!!! I HAVE AN STI - cue lots of sobbing and a panicked phone call to Mr Ben Stokes (I didn't have an STI - will explain this later).

Two weeks later off I popped to the INCREDIBLE St Michael's Hospital in Bristol to have another lady root around in my lady parts and hopefully make me better. My mum came with me as I was a bit of a liability and likely to implode into a puddle of tears at any moment. My appointment was bang on time (amazing) and I had the best doctor-nurse duo that I could've asked for. It was like a scene from Ab Fab - the nurse commented on 'how pink it is in here' (meaning the room) and the doctor said 'oh god, thought you were talking about her down below for a minute!'. Great gag.

This procedure was super similar to a smear test except I had to have a biopsy as well - so the doctor snipped tiny bits of my cervix off and put them in a little pot to send off (I know, vom vom vom). I was told the cells would either be CIN1 (not cancer causing and would repair by themselves) or CIN2/CIN3 (pre-cancerous and need to be treated ASAP). As far as I was concerned, this was all done with and sending my cervix off in a little package was 'just to be sure'.

Four weeks later I got another letter from the NHS. This one was the absolute killer: 'We have found CIN2 cells on your cervix. These will need to be removed as quickly as possible.' Hang about, I'm pretty sure I was told before that CIN2 cells are PRE-CANCEROUS!? Not cancer no, but one step before. Ah, right. There was me worried that I had some sort of STI but actually it turns out that my cervix was housing a little group of cells that will probably turn into the horrendous disease that is cancer if they aren't removed ASAP. I realise it could've been much worse, but I was not expecting that... I had to go in for a minor operation called 'LLETZ' (large loop excision of the transformation zone) to remove the cells before they even had the chance to develop into the dreaded 'big C', and was given a date of 15th November.

Many questions, much Googling and at least 7 pints of tears followed before yesterday's procedure. I arrived at St Michael's in a bit of a daze but with my mum and Ben in tow, which made me feel 1 million times better. A lovely little doctor lady came to get me and semi-hugged me when I started crying as soon as she shut her office door. She also assured me that although nothing could go into my vajay for the next 4 weeks (tampons, willys, cucumbers etc), I'd be absolutely fine for Christmas Day oioioioiiii, so at least I was up-to-date with all the important stuff. I had to strip off (kept my top on though - boobies are sacred but flaps are fine) and lie down, spread eagle, on an NHS-approved torture device.

There I was, legs akimbo with a small blonde lady crouched at my nether regions when she said 'now it's time for the anaestethic'. Ah yes, the injection. This was one of my main fears - injections in my arm are bad enough thank you very much and I wasn't thrilled to find out that I'd have to have one 'down there'. I think I must've tensed the old pelvic floor muscles at this point - and she'd know as she had her head nuzzled in between them - as she told me to relax and all would be fine. To be honest, it wasn't as bad as I thought and once I was numb she really got to work. The basics of it is she had to chuck a load of different dyes down there to pick up the bad cells (a bit like a heat map I suppose), and then when the bad cells were found she had to burn them off with a massive blow torch. Loooool joking, it was a tiny little wire but it did make me feel better to imagine her down there with a industrial fire resistance suit on. After about 20 minutes it was all over and I didn't feel too bad.

I was aware that the nurse was cleaning up around me and on the floor etc, so tried to sit up and have a nose. THEN I saw the blood. I'm not squeamish usually but oh my lord, it was all over the floor! I was told to sit back down and stop looking but I couldn't really help myself. I then realised I was sat in blood as well, so that was pleasant. BLOODY HELL. After 5 minutes I was allowed to sit up and get my kit back on. I felt completely fine, just a bit shocked by the blood but realised I had a few questions to ask. The doctor told me two things that I thought I should share with everyone (and congrats to anyone who has got this far haha...):

- My pre-cancerous cells were first infected with the HPV virus. The doctor said she sees HPV as bit of a cold - and if you had a cold that wouldn't go away you'd get it looked at. There are hundreds of strains of the HPV virus (one of them being Veruccas! Yuck but not life-threatening) and 16 of them occur on the cervix. Most women will have 'a bit of a cold' on their cervix at one time or another, but the problem comes when your immune system can't fight it off. If left for a number of years without treatment, HPV then turns into pre-cancerous cells, which in turn can develop into cancer if not removed.

- HPV is not an STI. Anyone who has had sexual contact can get HPV - you don't catch it from people but it's more liiike: if you go out of the house in winter with wet hair and no coat, then you may catch a cold. If you have sexual contact with someone at any age, then you may catch a cold on your cervix. NOT AN STI! For this reason the doctor said she thought smear tests should be done at around 22 rather than 25 - as some people would've been sexually active for nearly 10 years by that point.

-  Jade Goody was offered the treatment I had yesterday and didn't take it. Sadly this meant her cells developed quickly into cervical cancer and she passed away at a very young age. Her death meant women started actually turning up to their smear tests and taking the treatments more seriously. After my experience I think it's SO important to go to these type of tests - it may seem like a scary or gross thing to go through but it's much better than never knowing and having to deal with cells developing into something a lot worse.

ANYWAY. After my little operation yesterday I was taken to a cute little recovery room with a HUGE armchair and looked after very well by one of the nurses. Mum and Ben came in to see me (cue more tears) and we left after about 15 minutes of me repeatedly saying 'there was just so much blood' and praising the doctors for being so nice. Bloody lovely, hehehe (sorry). The cells that they removed are being sent off for more checks and I'll get the results of those in 6 weeks - so a little bit longer to wait but definitely worth it to make sure I'm healthy. I have to have smear tests every 6 months for the next couple of years (I think), so at least I'm going to feel very familiar with the ol' gynaecology unit at St Michael's.

So where does this leave my running? I have two weeks of strict no running at all - because the pounding motion may split my wound and no one wants to clear up such a big mess for the sake of a 15 minute run - and 4 weeks of no swimming. At first I was really upset as I'm really fit at the moment and have had to pull out of a couple of races, but we decided that I could probably do with a rest. I haven't had a full two weeks off for about two years, so it might do me some good. The few family members and friends that knew I was having this done have been brilliant as usual and I'm probably going to make them go on long walks with me until I can run again - THANKS HUNZ.

I've come to realise that things could've been a hell of a lot worse, so two weeks of chilling out and looking after myself is maybe just what the doctor ordered. And the NHS is the best thing ever, so I'd better listen...