Magan Vernon - The Only One

I slowly took the last few steps until I was at a glass window. A bubbly blonde in a pair of black scrubs sat behind it, staring at a computer. She slid the window open once her bright green eyes flitted to mine. “Hi, how can I help you?” Her voice was sugary sweet, like she hadn’t been dealing with hormonal women all day.

“Hi, I’m Melanie Wilder and I have a 12:30 appointment with Dr. Rodriguez.”

She looked at the computer screen, typing a few keys, before she nodded and picked up a tablet with a big orange case and stylus pen dangling off the side of it by a short string. “Okay Melanie.” She handed me the tablet. “I have you all set. We need you to fill out your information on here and bring it up to the desk when you’re done. If you don’t get it finished before you get called back then you can just hand it to the nurse.”

“Okay, thanks.” I nodded before she closed the window.

John was staring at a magazine rack on the wall. “You’d think they’d have a Sports Illustrated or something.”

“John. This is an OB. It’s mostly women.”

“Dudes come with their women to the OB. Obviously. I’m here with you.”

He followed me to one of the couches where we sat across from a very pregnant woman thumbing through some tabloid magazine. She was pretending not to listen, but her eyes flitted to us instead of the page.

“John,” I whispered. “Do you realize that when you say things like that, people might think we’re here for a different reason?”

“What? Like that you’re carrying my love child?” he said, loud enough that the lady across from us didn’t even pretend that she wasn’t staring.

“John!” I hiss-whispered.

He grinned, putting his baseball cap backwards. “I’m just giving you shit, Red. I have to do something to see that gorgeous smile make an appearance.”

I looked at the tablet in my hands, feeling like my face was about one hundred degrees. The guy had a way of making me blush, even when we were sitting in the middle of the doctor’s office.

He quickly pulled out his phone and was busy tapping on that while I filled out the extremely long health care history form. I didn’t even known the health history of my dad’s family and I wasn’t about to call that train wreck up, so I just guessed on most of it.

A door directly to my left opened. A short nurse in black scrubs stood with her dark hair in a loose ponytail. “Melanie Wilder?”

I stood up a little too quickly, practically jumping. “That’s me.”

“Great. Follow me.” She smiled and swapped her folder from one hand to the other.

“Do you want me to come with?”

I looked over to John. His eyes were wide and I couldn’t read what was behind them. If he actually wanted to come or if he was just being nice.

“If you want your husband to come back with you, that’s fine.” The nurse said, the smile still plastered on her face.

“Oh no he’s not—”

John stopped me before I could finish my sentence. “It’s cool. I’ll wait out here. Let me know how it goes.” He took my hand and squeezed it gently.

I swallowed hard and felt like every girl in the room was staring at me. Which they probably were and wondering how I got to go in ahead of them. I gently squeezed John’s hand back before I followed the nurse into the next room where she shut the door behind us. It wasn’t as much of a room, but more of a corridor. Directly in front of us was a big nurse’s station in which different scrub-clad women sat behind computers. To my left was a scale that sat opposite a bathroom and in front of me was a long hallway, painted the same green as the waiting area with more pictures of pregnant women, and tons of open doors in each direction.

“I can take that tablet from you, if you’re done,” the nurse said and I handed her the orange, clunky tablet.

“If you could just step on the scale here. I’ll get your height and weight and then we’ll go to a room,” the nurse said in an uber perky voice. Why was everyone so cheerful? They were in a place that stared at lady bits all day. No way would I be that happy.

After stepping on the scale and getting measured, (heavier than I thought and shorter, not a great combo) I followed the nurse into one of the many open doors. The walls were maroon and an exam table sat in the middle with a small chair, some magazines, oh yeah—and a nice little replica of a woman’s vagina sat on a shelf directly in front of me. How was I supposed to concentrate on anything when I had a vagina staring at me?

“Okay.” The nurse closed the door and sat on a wheeled stool. I pried my eyes away from the shelf and took a seat on the exam table. “It looks like you’re here with a referral from Central’s Student Health Services because of moderate dysplasia they found on a pap smear?” She didn’t even look up from the folder she was reading.

I shrugged. “That’s what they tell me.”

She closed the folder and looked at me, hard. Her eyes were like two giant brown marbles. “Did the doctor from Student Health Services explain what that means?”

“Um, she just kind of told me that they were cancerous cells and to come see Dr. Rodriguez.”

The nurse gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Well, good to see they educated you on that.” She then pulled a pamphlet out from the rack behind her and handed it to me. It was magenta colored with four different stock photos of women of different ages and races and in big text it read, ‘The link between Cervical Cancer and HPV’.

“Ohhh kay.”

“That should give you some more information about HPV and I’m sure that Dr. Rodriguez will discuss more about it with you. It happens to a lot of women your age. I’m not sure the exact statistic, but I’ve seen so many girls walk in here with the same thing. Most of them do only have mild dysplasia, but I’m sure that Dr. Rodriguez will be able to discuss a plan with you and help you with the next steps.”

I didn’t even look at the nurse as she talked. Instead my eyes flitted to the definition of HPV that was staring at me from the first page of the pamphlet. Human Papilomavirus is the most common sexually transmitted infection. There are more than 40 different strains that specifically affect the genital area, some linked to genital warts and some to cancer of the cervix.

“Do I have an STD?” I asked, my mouth agape, staring at the sheet.

The nurse sighed and I finally looked up at her. “Yes and no. That seems to be the one thing that people point to. It is sexually transmitted, but it doesn’t mean that it will transmit to your partner if that’s what you’re wondering. You can’t pass cervical cancer to him and men don’t get the same symptoms as women, usually.”

I snorted. “That guy in the lobby isn’t my partner He’s just a friend.” A friend that is going to be very happy he didn’t have sex with me since I have a disease.

“Well he must be a very good friend to take you to this appointment.”

“I guess.”

She then went through asking me a few questions like if I’d ever been pregnant, if I was a smoker, and my last period. All standard stuff I guessed at or responded no. For having a sexually transmitted infection, I sure was boring in the sex department.

The nurse opened a drawer behind her and pulled out a flimsy gown and handed it to me. It smelled like stale water and the metallic drawer it came out of. “You can keep your bra on, but please take off your shirt, pants, and underwear.”

“Uh, all right.” This was the second time that a woman I’d just met was about to see my lady parts. Both of them had gotten farther than I had with a guy in almost a year. Which didn’t make much sense since I was the one with the disease.

She offered me another tight-lipped smile and picked up the folder and tablet before she stood up and went to the door. “I’ll let Dr. Rodriguez know that you’re here.”

“Okay.”

* * *

I undressed quickly, hoping no one would walk in, and then sat back on the exam table, waiting for what seemed like forever. I leafed through some older magazines that sat on the shelf and tried not to stare at the giant vagina model. I had no idea what time it was, so when I finally pulled out my phone I had quite a few missed messages from John.

Hey, Red, just sitting out here and being ogled by preggo ladies. How are you doing in there?

Red? You haven’t been eaten alive have you?

Okay, hopefully you haven’t been killed by one of those creepy instruments and you’ll text me back soon.

I smiled, reading through the texts. Maybe he actually did care. Or maybe he was just creeped out from sitting in the lobby at an OB.

Just waiting on the doctor. Should be out soon.

As I finished the text a knock came at the door and without me answering a short, middle-aged Latina woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun came in. “Hello, Melanie, I’m Dr. Rodriguez.” Her accent was thicker than her chunky sweater that she wore under her white lab coat.

“Hi, Dr. Rodriguez.”

“You were sent from Student Health Services regarding some dysplasia I see.”

“Yep.” The same thing that I just told the nurse. Did they not share notes?

She sat on the wheeled stool. “Did the nurse explain what we are going to do today?”

“Um, no, ma’am. She just gave me some pamphlet on HPV and told me to drop trou.”

Dr. Rodriguez nodded. “Okay, let me explain. We’re going to do a procedure called a colposcopy. I’m going to put your legs in these stirrups and then examine your vulva. After that I’m going to put some acetic acid on your cervix. If any area turns white, I’ll be taking samples for biopsy.” She smiled and pulled a few instruments out of the drawer behind her. “Now, do you have any questions before we get started?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again, willing the tears not to escape. This was a lot to take in. Acid. Biopsies. Sexually transmitted infections. I felt like I had just been hit by a truck and now was expected to learn to walk right after. “Is it going to hurt?” My voice came out shaky.

Dr. Rodriguez put her instruments on a small, metal table near the exam table. “It does burn a little, but I do numb the area before I begin. I’d recommend that you abstain from any sexual activity for a few days after and you may bleed lightly.”

No way I was going to be having sex with anyone anytime soon. I wouldn’t have been surprised if John had already left.

“Okay.”

* * *

Burning was an understatement and so was the so-called numbing cream. It felt like my lady bits were on fire. I nipped down on my lip, trying not to cry through the entire process, especially when she literally had to cut parts of my cervix for biopsy. By the time it was over I had giant, crescent moon shaped indents in my palms from holding my fists so tight.

I laid back, pretending I was somewhere else until there was a small amount of pressure and then the instruments were out of me. Dr. Rodriguez reached for my hand and helped me to a sitting position. “Okay, Melanie, I’m going to send these samples to the lab and we should have the results back early next week. If you could make an appointment to see me as early as Wednesday, we can discuss the results.”

I nodded, my throat feeling like I lost all moisture.

“Do you have any other questions?”

I had a million, but it felt like my voice was caught in my throat, so I just shook my head. Too much emotion for one day.

She patted my knee and stood. “Everything will be fine, Melanie. I’ll see you next week.”

At the checkout desk I made an appointment for the following Wednesday. I didn’t even think how I would get there, my mind was on auto pilot and I was trying not to walk like a cowboy, still feeling worse than when I lost my virginity.

When I opened the door to the waiting room John jumped out of his seat. “You’re alive!”

A few ladies shot him some evil looks and I ushered him out the door to keep him from saying anything else.

“So? How’d it go? What’d they say? What’s our next step?”

I stopped in the middle of the tunnel and turned to face John. His eyes were wide and he blinked slowly. “Well?”

I let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding in and let my shoulders slump. “She did this thing called a colposcopy.”

“Up your butt?”

An elderly couple glared at John as they walked by us.