“Wait! Dr. B I have a question.  Last time I came for the cryosurgery, you only froze me twice, why did we need to do four today?”  Dr. B looked at me seriously and I felt my stomach clench.  He was never serious.  Something had to be wrong.  I noticed the nurse trying to discreetly slip out of the room.  Oh God, what else could happen?  I have already lain on a table with my lady business spread for the world to see with liquid nitrogen being shot up into it, how in the hell could it possibly get any worse.  A year ago I would have told you liquid nitrogen is what they use to make the atomic bomb.    

“We had to step things up a notch, because last time the cryosurgery didn’t completely dissolve all of the abnormal cells.  I decided to freeze you a few more times today so that the LEEP would be the last resort.”

“The leap? What is that?”  The term “last resort” echoed in my ears and settled uncomfortably in my brain. 

“It’s spelled L-E-E-P.   It stands for Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure.  It will basically remove the tip of your cervix where all these pre-cancerous cells have congregated so that they cannot come back.”

“Oh.”  This did not sound good at all.  I felt sick to my stomach again.  “Does it have to be done in a hospital?  Why is it the last resort?”  Please God, may I never ask you for anything else in my life, don’t make me have to go through that electro-whatever.  Please.  I will go to church.  I will do volunteer work. I promise I will NEVER have sex again.  Well…not with Matt anyway, I conceded.  No point in being totally unrealistic.  But I swear I’ll be good! PLEASE GOD!  Dr. B sighed,

“We don’t like to do the LEEP to someone your age if possible because it can potentially-not definitely-“he added hastily, “create problems later on during pregnancy.”  He still had that serious look on his face.  I felt the panic inside me slowly building until I could practically taste it.  Was he telling me that I might not be able to have kids?  Is this for real?  I did not want to ask him to clarify; I was terrified of what he might say next.  The room was starting to spin again; I reached a shaky hand out to help myself sit and realized I was already sitting.  “And no, you would come here for the procedure, not the hospital, it only takes about twenty-five minutes, but we would administer a local anesthetic beforehand.  But let’s not think about that yet, we might not even have to go there,” he patted my arm and picked up my file, “be good kiddo, you’ll be fine, I’ll talk to you soon.” 

Gingerly, I walked out to the main desk and handed in my insurance card.  That thing was racking up more miles than my Visa.