Pair Three dried in time. But it turned out that was the least of my worries. Have you ever had a cervical smear? Crikey! The pamphlet told me it could cause “discomfort”, clearly using the same line of thinking as the chap who penned the immortal phrase “War is just a wee little bit like, kind of, you know, hell, but toned down a lot and really not so bad actually, you’ll like the food”.
I had to do it twice.
It was all the bally nurse’s fault. She wanted to test me for chlamydia.
Me: “No, that’s OK, I’m pretty sure I don’t have chlamydia.”
She (kindly but firmly): “Oh, yes, well I’m not saying you do, but it’s never a bad idea to check”.
Me: “Really, I don’t mind skipping this one, the chances-”
She (kindlier but firmlier): “Well, while we’re in there we’ll just take a swab, shall we?”
Me (feeling more and more like a streetwalker in denial, and I wasn’t even wearing Pair 1): “Um, I don’t think it’s necessary to test for that.”
She: “I’ll just tick the box”.
Me (meekly): “Mkay.” (Thinking: Oh well, at least it’s free.)
On the experience itself, though it has great literary potential, we shall not dwell. I tried employing the mental technique of going to my Happy Place - in a pinch, Disneyland - but it didn’t help, and will probably give me post-traumatic flashbacks on the Matterhorn. When it was over and I was trying to collect the shattered remnants of my psyche, the nurse suddenly said “Ooh! I forgot to take the swabs”.
Note: this always happens to me. The only time a blood test didn’t involve three tries was when I had high blood pressure from pre-eclampsia and the blood spurted out and splattered the bedsheets pleasingly.
Me: “These would be the chlamydia swabs?”
She: “Yes, I got distracted. I’m very sorry. Ach! Let me just pop some more gloves on.”
Me (fighting the urge to kick her in the face and dash for the door, leaving Pair 3 to their fate): “I’m really very happy to skip those.”
She: “No, no, no, while we’re here, good idea to do them.”
Me: “Really? ‘Cause I really don’t think I have chl-”
She (snapping the gloves on threateningly): “Let’s just do them quickly. Now, this’ll be easy - you won’t tense up this time, because you know what I’m about to do.”
Me: *hysterical yelp at the absurdity of this remark*
Some minutes later, I limped down to Reception to give them the form. The woman looked at me sullenly.
“Are you paying today, love?” she said.
“I thought it was free,” said I, pointing to the “BALANCE: $0.00″ on the sheet.
“Cervical smears aren’t free, love.”
$28.
