Cancer is not very dignified. You’d like to think it is, but it isn’t. Between the treatments that make you feel like crap, and the cancer that makes you feel like crap, you already have a few strikes against you.
But when you have a cancer of the “private part” persuasion, well, dignity and privacy kind of go right out the window.
At least with diagnoses of most cancers, you don’t feel “on display” as you do say with the type of cancer I got lucky enough to have. Gyno cancers mean one thing – EVERYONE gets to see your junk.
I swear, over the past ten months, from the initial days of “What the hell is wrong with me” right up to the past week of enduring brachytherapy, the population of a small country has been face first into my hooha.
And what I find immensely amusing is that they are embarrassed about it. Really? Shouldn’t I be the one to have to gauge MY level of embarrassment?
I have had two vaginal ultrasounds, so right there, complete strangers up in my junk. Plus my regular gyno. And then the diagnosis of “hmmm…something isn’t quite right down there” which sent me to University of Maryland Medical Center. Which thank God for that, but yeah – teaching facility. I get doctors, nurses, and STUDENTS looking at my junk. From the hysterectomy, to the follow-up exams, to the latest indignity.
Yesterday, when I went in, my regular nurse Laura introduced me to Rebecca. Rebecca is a new nursing student who is interested in working in radiation oncology. Did I mind if she observed?
Well, why the hell not….have at it. Everyone in Maryland has seen it, why not you too?
And that includes all the radiation techs – they all get to see it. Because it’s not a radiation appointment unless the ENTIRE staff gets a peek. C’mon in! Bring some popcorn! I’m sure it’s much more interesting to you, than me. What’s worse? Not only do they get to look, but because it is a teaching facility, they TALK about it. Can someone tell me where this goes? How should I insert this?
Um, there’s more than one way? REALLY? Can the person who delivers the wrong answer be asked to leave, please?
Bless them. I know they are trying to heal me. And heal away. My modesty went out the window months ago. They ask me if anything feels different down there….um, you’ve seen it more than me…does anything LOOK different?
So, the next time you are driving down I-95, don’t be surprised to see a giant billboard of my junk…seriously…I think it would be easier than parading 50 million strangers through the radiation room.