Life After LLETZ – What They Don’t Tell You

Right men, you might not want to read this one. This post isn’t going to be pretty. It isn’t going to be attractive. It is going to make you squirm. In fact, it’s probably going to make a few girls squirm too. This is what happens once you have been diagnosed with High Grade Dyskaryosis, have a colposcopy and end up having LLETZ treatment – Large Loop Excision of the Transformation Zone. Also known as LOOP, it is invasive and pretty painful even though they say it won’t be. You can read more about the actual procedure here:

After LLETZ or LOOP treatment for those abnormal cells, life doesn’t go back to normal for a while. In fact, it can take up to four to six weeks for life to go back to complete normality. You can’t use tampons for four weeks, partake in any heavy lifting, have sex, go swimming, etc. You are likely to have some mild bleeding. It might make your next period heavier. It might also put you at an increased risk of miscarriage and will also increase the chances of you not being able to carry a pregnancy full term. It’s funny how those things weren’t explained to me before I had that procedure done. It wouldn’t have affected my answer any way – of course I would need to have it done. They have found precancerous cells on my cervix. Those bad-boys have gotta go. It would have been nice if they had told me that though, you know?

The sanitary towels are the worst. If, like me, you’ve never used a sanitary towel in your life, not only will you not have a clue which ones to buy, but you won’t really know how to use them. I don’t know how much red stuff there is meant to be before you change them. I also don’t know how come it doesn’t matter how big the towels are, red stuff always manages to end up on my underwear somewhere. Not being able to use tampons is killing me. I’m not a big pant kinda gal. Nor am I a sanitary towel one either. There’s no way you can’t see the outline of the towel if you take a closer look at my ass. I’m sure of it.

For the first few days after having the LLETZ treatment, I had no bleeding at all. I had some clear, slippery discharge tinged with a bit of brown (*sorry for the TMI – girls SHOULD talk about this stuff more!) but no blood. The next day I had a vomiting fit (caused by the bowel problems) dislodged something, a small scab appeared to fall out, and I had the tiniest bit of blood. I panicked, of course, but it soon stopped. At that point, because nothing else was happening (no discharge), I figured I could go without sanitary towels as they are very uncomfortable to wear and seem to agitate my bits. A LOT! 

Then, four days after the treatment, I figured I would test the waters with a cheeky little play with myself. Don’t do this. I’m not sure if it was the contracting or the orgasm or whatever, but something happened up there and within ten minutes, I started bleeding. Now, I’m not sure if it was the orgasm that caused it, or my period (which would have arrived four days early – not due until Thursday), but I haven’t stopped bleeding and so far it’s been over 48 hours. Fresh, bright red blood. It doesn’t look like time of the month stuff, you know?

See, no one told me that. No one told me how long I would need to go before I could masturbate. I didn’t use a toy or anything because I’m not allowed to insert anything into my vagina for at least four weeks, but I thought it might be OK to ‘double click the mouse’, so to speak. I would advise against this ladies. Maybe leave it a week before you test the waters. For fucks sake.

See, I know what you’re asking. Why is she telling us all this stuff? I’m telling you this stuff because it’s all stuff I didn’t know. I thought I knew what was going to happen but in reality, I had no clue what was about to unfold in front of me, or the magnitude of it. Surely the fact that you can’t touch your nether regions for four weeks would tell you how serious this was? This is an actual operation to remove precancerous cells from the parts of you that are meant to give life, not take it. I won’t apologise for talking about the crap coming out of my nether regions because I don’t mean it. I wish someone would have told me these things before I went in and had that awful LLETZ procedure done. My foof is ruined. Bits have been taken out of it. It was fine before. I always liked my foof. I’m sad for my foof right now.

The thing that annoys me the most is that this whole scenario has been caused by that HPV virus. It’s a sexually transmitted infection. They don’t talk about how you’re going to feel once you find out you had that godawful virus in your body. From what I can work out, because medical professionals seem to be very reluctant to talk about it with me, all precancerous cells are caused by a strain of the HPV virus which many of us have without any symptoms. Some strains cause genital warts and herpes and some cause cancer. I think those are strains 16 and 18.

I don’t know if I have tested positive for HPV. That’s the scariest thing. I don’t know if it is something I can pass on to the man I sleep with. How long have I had HPV for, if I have tested positive for it? How many of the men in my past would I need to contact? Do I even need to contact them at all? When I asked the female doctor over the phone whether or not I had tested positive for it, she said if I had have been, it would be noted on the letter that told me about the high grade dyskaryosis. It didn’t, so she was sure I didn’t have it. She didn’t know though. She couldn’t answer the question.

When I went in for the colposcopy and LLETZ treatment, I asked the gynaecologist whether or not I would be HPV positive and he couldn’t answer the question either. I would be tested for it at my next smear and colposcopy examination in six months. So what does that mean for me now? I’m in a new relationship with my Someone New – is HPV something I can pass on to him? If I can, is it really worth me embarking on a new relationship all the time I’m going through this? It’s hardly fair on him, is it? Or myself for that matter. But that aside, why can’t anyone answer my questions? Do I have it? What does that mean for my sex life? Why is everyone being so vague? What’s going on here that I don’t know about? Am I being paranoid?

So for now (6 days after the LLETZ procedure), I’ve been bleeding heavily, solidly for over 48 hours although that could be down to an early period. I feel very under the weather, exhausted in fact. I have period pain like cramps that are so much worse than period pain cramps, and only strong, prescribed painkillers is getting rid of the pain and even then, only briefly.

Only three more weeks to go (hopefully) and life will be back to normal – no more bleeding, no more sex ban, no more weird pains. Maybe I’ll be lucky and it’ll mostly be over well before then? Oh and hope no bad biopsy results come back.

My body hates me right now. 

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

I actually meant to write this the other day when I bought emergency condoms for my fourth date with Someone New but what with everything else going on, I didn’t quite get around to it. It’s still bugging me though so I feel the need to talk about it…

Why is buying condoms in your late twenties so difficult?

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

I thought I had some in my room and five minutes AFTER I was due to leave the house to catch the bus for my date, I realised I didn’t know where they were. I had a quick rummage in some drawers and cupboards that I believed I would reasonably keep them and then I realised, I’m pretty sure I gave the box I had to Bestie. FUCK.

I’d already accepted I was going to be late at this point so took a leisurely stroll into town on my way to the station and run into one of the little stores – a bottle of water, some Kleenex, gum and a two-pack of condoms. Someone was clearly in for a good night.

I had so many dilemmas at this point.

Firstly, a box of 12 condoms seemed a bit over-eager. Who has sex 12 times in one night? Especially the first night? Who takes 12 condoms?

Secondly, where would I keep the box? I’d need to take them out of the box, find somewhere to dispose of the box, keep two rubbers spare and easily accessible in the handbag somewhere, and hide the other ten so I didn’t look like a complete, raging nymphomaniac.

Thirdly, what about a two-pack? I’m sure these used to be a three-pack. Didn’t they used to be a three-pack? Three was a great number – three times in one night is a good effort. Two doesn’t seem enough. It also seems cheap. What if he has already picked some up though? Maybe I’ll go with the lady-like two-pack and leave it at that.

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

What kind of condoms do I buy? Classic? Ribbed? Extra-long? Extra-small? Medium? Ones with nobbles on? Flavoured ones? Which brand is best? Gosh, condom politics! Clearly I’ll need to go with a standard ‘medium’ fit, right? Too big or too small and we’ve got an embarrassing situation on our hands. Do I need lube? Shall I buy lube? What about a vibrating cock ring? It’s right there…? Too much? Yeah, probably too much.

Fuck, I can’t just buy condoms. That’s too obvious. What else do I need? What else can I buy? I don’t have a pack of Kleenex in my bag so I’ll buy one of those, just in case. I can’t be the girl that doesn’t have Kleenex in her bag – I’m too emotional these days.

I get halfway around the store and I realise I just bought condoms and tissues. Christ if that doesn’t have “I’M GOING TO HAVE SEX TONIGHT” written all over it, I don’t know what does. I add a bottle of water and a packet of chewing gum. Fuck, I couldn’t have made this look any worse at all, could I? I give up.

I get to the counter, it’s late thankfully and there’s no one else in the store. I can’t remember the last time I bought condoms. The guy has always made it very clear he has them. I’m an get-an-STI-test-and-get-into-a-serious-relationship-kinda-girl. Or get-them-free-from-the-GUM-clinic kinda girl. I always seem to ‘accumulate’ condoms too. I don’t really know where they come from. I must secretly steal them from guys when I’m drunk / asleep.

The guy at the counter is creepy, really creepy. He has multicoloured pink, purple, blue and green long hair, and he’s looking at me really creepily. He’s hitting on me! I’m pretty sure he’s hitting on me! This can’t be happening to me! He said the creepiest of things too – “I really like your jacket, where did you get it from?” before mumbling on about some heavy-metal rock brand I’ve never, ever heard of because I grew out of the memo phase when I was 16 years old. Smiling creepily and putting the condoms through the scanner and into the carrier bag, he then proceeded to ask me what I was going to be doing with my evening. Seriously? I just bought a pack of two condoms, some Kleenex, a pack of chewing gum and sparkling water, what do you really think I’m up to tonight? Cleaning my kitchen? Fucking idiot.

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

Throughout that entire traumatic experience, I just kept thinking to myself “I’d better get laid tonight, I’d better get laid tonight” and then when I got there, Someone New had bought a 12-pack of rubbers and various sachets of tingling / numbing / heating up lubricant too! All that hard work, all that drama for nothing! He had supplied the condoms. Still, better to be safe than sorry I guess. And let’s face it, we were both more than disappointed with the fact we both forgot condoms on our third date. I would have stabbed him if that happened again. I was facing the prospect of four weeks without sex – we were having sex that night even if we needed to use cling film*. End of conversation.

*Disclaimer: I’m not stupid enough to use clingfilm. 

The problem here is WHY was it so embarrassing buying condoms? Was it the situation that made me feel uncomfortable – the weird, creepy guy behind the counter, the last minute panic buying of rubbers? Would I have felt as uncomfortable if I had gone to Boots and picked a box of 12 up with my regular toiletries? Would it have made a difference if I had been served by a female?  Surely, aside from a bar toilet, there has got to be an easier, less painful way of buying them?

Because clearly it is not something that has gotten easier with age… 

Is there a next-day emergency delivery service of condoms I don’t know about? If there isn’t, could someone please invent this. Many thanks!

The Doppelganger.

There is a guy I see everyday and he is the spitting image of Jock – his Doppelganger. I don’t know why but I always seem to see him. Whether I’m walking down the road back home and we pass each other in the street, or he walks past my house as I happen to be writing in the window. Almost every day I see him and every time I do, my heart skips a beat. I’m short-sighted so from a distance away, I actually think it’s him, Jock. As he gets closer I realise it’s not and every time, I get a little disappointed. I don’t really know why.

We haven’t spoken for such a long time now. He never did ask me whether or not I had bowel cancer. Just like he doesn’t know that I’m now going through the scary cervical crap now either. I guess it was for the best that he ran off when he did. If one cancer scare was too much for him, his heart probably would have exploded by now. If he had a heart of course. Wanker.

I’m over it now, moving onto Someone New but occasionally my heart still pines for him. Every time I hear All of Me, my heart stops. Every time I see the guy that looks like him, my heart skips a beat. Every time I come across another photo of him that I had forgotten I had, my heart pounds through my chest. I do miss him. Every now and then, I miss him. I let myself listen to our song on the way to work. I let my eyes fill up with tears. I don’t let them escape down my cheeks, but I do let them start to form. It’s OK that I still miss him and that I still get upset. I have a heart. My heart was broken. He was the man I thought I was going to marry and have children with. I know that’s something that won’t go away overnight, if at all. I’ve accepted now that he will always be the one that got away. I know everyone thinks he was bad for me, but he’ll always be the one I really wanted. He was fat, old and grey but he was everything I was looking for. Just not in the package I expected to find it in. And with a bit more baggage than I would have wanted.

I don’t think Someone New is going to be the next love of my life. I actually see quite a lot of similarities between him and One Ball and The Lapdog. I think he’s going to be a gap-filler; someone that fills my head and my time while I’m waiting for the storm of Jock to pass. I don’t really know if I’m allowed to say that out loud but oh well, I’ve said it now. He’s too much of a control freak to be a long-term thing for me. Too much of a nice-guy at the same time, quite bizarrely too. He won’t be able to control me and that will frustrate him eventually. The nice guy persona will be ripped down one day. He says it keeps him on his toes right now but how long will it take before it annoys him rather than excites him?

On top of that, there have been a few red lights for me already – those warning bells that don’t seem like much now but out of experience you’ve learned will end up being a massive, great big deal later on when it’s too late and everyone’s feelings get hurt. 84 messages when I woke up the other morning, for example, and the constant selfie-taking obsession he seems to have materialised. When I was at his for our third date, he grabbed my phone when I was in the toilet and took about 50 selfies (because the camera is the only thing you can access on an iPhone when it is locked). Out of those 84 messages I woke up to, around 50 of them were selfies. Plus he wants to know what I’ve eaten, where I’ve been, where I am, and what I’m up to all the time. Like every minute of every day. I can’t work out if he’s just the really good, attentive boyfriend I’ve always wanted, or a total complete freak. I think it’s probably the latter.

Maybe he’ll surprise me and be a good guy after all? We’ve definitely got chemistry but is that always enough? Are these real warning signs, or is this because I didn’t have anything like this with Jock? He never gave a shit where I was or what I was doing, which should have been an alarm bell by itself really. Is it really so strange for my new boyfriend to want to know how I am, how I’m feeling, what I’m up to? Is it really so strange for him to want to put a selfie up on Facebook of the two of us together after just a month? We’ve had four dates. He’d asked me to be his “girlfriend” before we had even slept together. To be fair, we do talk a lot – we’re always Whatsapping or Facetiming. He tries to call me every day. It’s exhausting being in constant contact but I do enjoy talking to him.

Oh, before I forget, I need to add this guy to my list. Someone New – Number 43. Christ these are starting to add up fast. Maybe I should be a fourth-date girl more often and I wouldn’t be looking at such a long list. You should see my resting bitch face right now. Or resting slut face, it seems more appropriate. Maybe I should set myself a limit? Get to 50 guys and that’s it, no more guys! I either have to reuse a guy from my past (The Fireman has been in touch again. Maybe I could get back with the ex?) or become a Nun. Technically then I can only have 49 guys because I need to keep one space open for the Bestie in case we do decided to get married and procreate one day. That’s if they leave my cervix where it is. Resting slut face again.

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See the kind of dilemmas you’re faced with when you have two cancer scares in six months. Yes, that’s right. You’d better be sympathising with me. Fucks sake.

#SmearForSmear: From Normal Girl to High Grade Dyskaryosis & Potential Cancer Scare No. 2!

So, it’s taken me a little while to write about this, mostly because it’s actually a pretty terrifying thing for any woman to need to go through. After already broaching the topic of cervical cancer and some pretty suspect symptoms along the way with a doctor and being laughed out of the surgery, I had put the thought of it all to the back of my mind. I went for my routine three-yearly smear and within six days I’d received a letter – “High grade dsykaryosis”. (See previous blog post)

#SmearForSmear

I was referred for a colposcopy which I had yesterday. The gynaecologist, possibly the funniest Indian chap I’ve ever met in my life, informed me that they had found the severest grade of abnormal cells and he would definitely be offering me treatment at the same time – a LOOP procedure which involved him basically burning craters out of my cervix. Stupidly, (or not so) I had watched a couple of YouTube videos so although I was completely terrified out of my wits, I at least knew what I should expect and before I knew it, my mother was ridiculously crying to the side of me, my legs were in stirrups and the guy had jabbed a local anaesthetic needle into my insides FOUR times before cutting / burning out a section approximately the size of a chocolate mini-egg.

I was told there would be some ‘mild discomfort’ as they injected my cervix with the anaesthetic. Mild discomfort my ass. Apparently there are no nerve endings in the cervix itself so the pain I was feeling is the flesh being stretched, but the pain I felt was sharp, stabbing and felt like it had gone right up to my rib cage. To be fair, the second, third and fourth stabbing I barely felt but that first one was enough to put me off forever. Legs up in those awful stirrups, there was not only me and my mother watching him stab stuff inside me, but the gynaecologist himself and THREE nurses. There was literally a party happening in my va-jay-jay. The only thing that was missing was wine and music!

It wasn’t long before he was wiping a cotton bud with some sort of acid over my cervix. Nothing really painful about that but you could definitely feel someone moving around inside of you. I noticed the area had gone from pink to white, examining the TV screen myself, and he agreed with me – they were the abnormal cells, and he would need to take them out. He told me not to look at what he did next because of how uncomfortable I felt about the blood that appeared from the injections, and from what I can gather from the smell, the loop-wire contraption burnt and cauterised stuff away from me. It smelt like burning flesh and the noise the device was giving off was enough to make me cry. I’ll be honest with you, it was probably the worst procedure I’ve ever had done. It was an invasive, scary, unknown, frightening experience that completely stripped me of my dignity. I wouldn’t wish this on the nastiest bitches I know.

It lasted, in total, probably about twenty minutes. Maybe even half an hour. I went in, spoke to the gynaecologist, stripped from the waist down, positioned myself, and was sanitary-towelled up and walking out the hospital in no time at all. Oh yeah, you don’t realise how shitty things are going to be afterwards though. Quick it was, painless – nope!

I managed to walk the 15 or so minutes home afterwards and to be honest, the cool rain on my face helped me to compose my thoughts. I was a mess before, during and after that procedure, and it really knocked me for six. I needed some time, just me, to think about what had happened, and to consider what could happen next. It’s 20th Feb right now and if I haven’t heard from the team by the end of March, I’m to call them but to assume everything is just fine. I will have a follow-up smear and colposcopy in six months and see what happens from there.

If I do hear from them before that, it’s probably going to be bad news. If the letter comes quickly, it’s definitely bad news. There are a couple of worst-case scenarios – the margin of the bad cells isn’t within the biopsy they took and I’ll need to have a repeat procedure. Or the pre-cancerous cells they’ve found will show signs of actual cancer and I may need further treatment…. such as a hysterectomy. That’s probably my worst-ever case scenario. I don’t want to talk about that right now.

So now, I’m just kinda hoping I don’t ever hear form the team I saw again. Well, maybe in like a couple of months time to say that all is OK, they got all the pre-cancerous cells out, and I will just be called back again in about six months time to get checked out again. I don’t want to think about the alternatives – the worst case scenarios. I’ve pushed the symptoms I had to the back of my mind, I’m just going to breathe and take it easy. I can’t worry about having cancer again, despite how much of my cervix appeared to turn white under that acid, and how much of my body he actually removed. After only getting the all-clear from bowel cancer just a month or so ago, I feel that life has dealt me a very cruel hand right now. But I’m hopeful and positive that in just a couple of months time, I can laugh about this one too.

Going back to the colposcopy and I was told that I would experience bleeding on and off for around three to four weeks. 24 hours later, I’ve had no bleeding at all. There’s the tiniest bit of weird browny, jelly-like, almost clear stuff coming out (sorry for the TMI but I really need to talk about this!) but he put some antibiotic gel up there so I assumed it would squelch out of me at some point. You’re not allowed to wear tampons for four weeks, however, which is a big fucking deal for me. I have never used sanitary towels before in my life. I didn’t know which ones to buy and needed to go on a shopping trip with my (useless) mother (because she doesn’t use them either) and ended up taking the advice of my younger sister (embarrassing) to buy the longest, ugliest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Big pants are in these days, it would seem. Oh yeah, I never wear big pants either. I’m a thong / g-string kinda girl during the day because I hate a VPL.

So after waddling home with what feels like a whole role of toilet roll in my massive underwear, I chill out for half an hour and discuss my ordeal with Bestie and in a split second, I go from slightly sombre, scared chick, to screaming in pain, crazy-eyed freak. I was in so much pain I literally couldn’t sit still. I’ve never had kids so I don’t know but that’s totally how I imagine labour to feel like, with wave after wave of pain coming from somewhere right in the middle of me. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t stand up, it was so painful that wriggling my toes seemed the only logical option. I took two paracetamol and then half an hour later when the pain still hadn’t subsided, I took one more. I can’t take anything stronger because of the diverticulitis. I had a hot water bottle, and then I lost all hope, gave in and smoked a spliff. I couldn’t cope with those cramps and that pain. Mild discomfort my ass. There was nothing mild about that.

I’m starting to feel like I’m fighting a losing battle here. I have invasive procedure after invasive procedure with no real end in sight. I have no holes left to poke and prod, no orifice left alone by the godamn NHS. I have no dignity left. I have no faith left either. I came out of the bowel cancer a much stronger (or getting there) woman and I started to feel like I was getting somewhere. That rug has been well and truly ripped out from under me now. Cervical cancer scares apparently aren’t that much fun either. I don’t really understand why life keeps spectacularly falling to pieces around me like this.

I don’t really know what I’ve done to deserve all of this bullshit. 

#SmearForSmear

Date Number Four With Someone New.

So ladies and gentlemen, I have good news to report. Someone New and I finally managed to get our shit together and made it to the bedroom and let me tell you, date four was every bit as exciting and thrilling as I thought it would be. The perfect way to start four weeks of no sex…. I shall go into that later.

He met me from the station on Tuesday evening and we grabbed some groceries for dinner. Back at his, awkward and nervous at the start as always, he rallied around cooking me dinner, making me comfortable on the couch, grabbing me a blanket and more. Honestly, he couldn’t have been more attentive if he tried. He even hid five Kinder Eggs (my favourite chocolate) around the house in places he knew I’d find them. Is this is a good sign? Or is he just trying to make a good impression at the start? You know how most guys are all hearts, flowers, romance and thoughtfulness until they actually get you and then they no longer try quite so hard…

We snuggled on the couch while he royally fucked up dinner by not putting the oven on the right temperature (which he later tried to blame on me – kinda hoping he was joking!), but it wasn’t just one-sided fuckery; I managed to knock over and smash a full glass of wine. Great job considering he was house sitting and it wasn’t even his carpet… or glass! Ooops! I get so clumsy sometimes!

After a bit of serious making out on the couch, he ordered me to go upstairs to bed. He’s very good at that – ordering me. “Sit on the couch”, “I’m about to brush my teeth, you should go first”, “Put these cushions under your ass”, “Watch me while I play with myself”….

I think I’m right with my previous predictions – he is most definitely a control freak. A ‘Mr. Grey’ type control freak, I think. From a very early point he repeatedly said “You are mine” – a similarity I noticed when I watched Fifty Shades of Grey – something else I should probably talk about.

He wouldn’t let me help with the cooking. He wouldn’t let me help with the clearing up. He refused to let me move, bringing my wine to me, my dinner to me, a cloth for when I smashed that glass. In one sense, it’s really nice being catered to but on the other side, it’s really intimidating in a weird sort of way. Plus I’m starting to wonder if I would last in a relationship with a control freak. I can’t be controlled. Everyone knows that, right?

Date Number Four With Someone New.

He was very dominant in bed though. For someone that told me he wanted me to tie him up and have my wicked way with his body, he didn’t give me much of a chance. Plus I was really nervous despite the one and a half glasses of wine I had drunk. I don’t think I gave him a very good representation of what I’m really like in bed but it looks like he’s willing to wait the four weeks until we can next have sex. Maybe I’ll get the chance to show him the real me after all?

First time sex is always clumsy sex. It doesn’t matter how good you are in the sack, shit always goes wrong the first time you sleep with someone new, someone shiny, someone you’ve never touched before. Luckily, not too much went wrong but there were a couple of things – he lost the plugs out of his ears and I lost my nose stud, the dog had managed to earlier chew through an entire packet of chewing gum and we were forced to feed her this awful charcoal stuff that went everywhere and stained our clothes. Plus the wine glass smashing incident, and him putting the oven on 80 degrees instead of 180 and then later trying to blame it on me. He made lasagne for dinner, with popcorn for later even though I can’t eat dairy (cheese on the lasagne) and popcorn is definitely one of the food no-no’s with my diverticulitis. I ate the food anyway because I didn’t want to be a fussy eater or an ungrateful cow, and was so petrified about going to the toilet the next morning that I ended up being constipated for a couple of days after. Plus we couldn’t get the shower to work and it was freezing cold, and then we flooded the bathroom, I managed to make the sink leak as there was a crack in the bowl and I overfilled it whilst brushing my teeth. Oh and I forgot the condoms and my toothbrush. I bought condoms on the way and yet still managed to forget my toothbrush, and in the end he remembered to bring our little rubbery friends too! I’ll put it down to nerves on both sides but things didn’t exactly go according to plan…

… Until we got into bed. My body reacted very well to his body, let’s put it that way, and even now, three days later, my butt cheeks still ache after the extra activity it was forced to do during Tuesday night’s shenanigans! I was on my side, on my back, on top of him, on my front, bent over the bed, you name it, we did it. I sucked him to a beautiful finish on the couch to get the first one out of the way. I didn’t want him to cum too early and ruin the evening so I did my girlfriendly duties and made Warm Bodies a film he won’t be forgetting in a hurry! 😉

Later on he came twice more, once kneeled over me, forcing me to watch him jerk himself off, finishing himself all over my chest and my stomach, and the second time making me watch again, while he finished himself off into my mouth. When this guy said he came a lot, he wasn’t kidding. Even the third time around there was more than I could handle! Luckily, the gentlemanly control freak kicked in within him and he grabbed me some Kleenex to mop myself up.

He’d already told me that he really liked it when his partner watched him jerk off and I’d had a few questions but never been brave enough to ask him. Like – what do I do while I’m watching you jerk yourself off? Am I meant to play with myself, because I’ll probably be too nervous to do that at the beginning? Where do I look? In your face? At your hands? Right at your cock? Am I expected to talk to you or just listen and learn? I didn’t really get the chance to ask those questions but it’s OK, we answered them all.

Playing with myself, stroking his body, playing with his balls, licking my lips, looking at him in the eyes as they roll back into the back of his head, feeling his legs tense up as he’s about to cum – all acceptable things to do apparently whilst watching the boyfriend jerk off all over you. I’ve never really watched someone jerk off over me, right in front of me before but I’ll be honest, it was perhaps one of the hottest experiences I’ve had. Watching his eyes lustily roam over my naked, squirming body as he moved his hands over his own cock was HOT! Knowing that I was having that effect on him was the biggest ego-booster I could have asked for. To be honest, we’d screwed for probably about an hour that night, and we were up at 6am doing it all over again so by the time he was done and finishing himself off both times, I was getting super sore. I don’t know why but it seemed he was having a hard time finishing off whilst screwing me…?

Still, I got laid. And you have no idea how happy I was at 7am the next morning too! 😉

#SmearForSmear

So, keeping in line with the whole #SmearForSmear thing, I went and had mine done. I should wait two weeks for the results and if I’d not been sent a letter, it should be fine but to give my doctor a call.

Less than seven working days after I had my smear, I got a letter. “There were some changes to some of the cells in your cervix called high grade dyskaryosis. It is unlikely that you have cancer but these changes need investigation and the appropriate treatment.”

That’s right, less than a month and a half after I got the all-clear from what we believed could have been bowel cancer, I’ve been told there’s a chance I might have cervical cancer instead. I find that pretty fucking ironic seeing as I had Googled all of my symptoms and came up with cervical cancer by myself right at the beginning of what I had started to call my “Poo Problems”, almost six months ago. I even asked the doctor if there was a chance that I could book a smear because of my concerns, and I had also read of a blood test that you could have done, but he dismissed it entirely telling me that I probably had IBS and shoo-ed me out of his office.

Six months later I finally get the smear I had asked for, and now I’m told the thing I had suspected all along – there was something wrong – I have high grade CIN3 dyskaryosis. What does this mean? I have no clue. I called the Doc’s and spoke to an actual female doctor and she just told me what the letter had said. They had found high grade, severe abnormal cells and therefore needed to be sent for a colposcopy and treatment.

Now, I must present to you the symptoms I’ve had over the last few years. I’m going to say three years. As soon as I came home from the other side of the world after leaving Big Love, my periods were all over the place. I have been keeping track of them on an app on my phone for over a year now and my cycles are never the same. Sometimes it will be 43 days, sometimes it will be 22 days, and most of the time it’s a completely random number anywhere between the two. I had pain during sex and occasionally bleeding but I put that down to just being rough and ready (and normally drunk), uncomfortable lower abdominal pains, chronic backache, itchy and uncomfortable legs… Plus there’s the poo problems too. Apparently they could all have been linked from the start.

For someone that never really wanted to have kids, the thought of not having the option to choose literally fills me with dread. I can’t bear the thought of not being able to make that decision for myself. The thought of it makes me cry. Proper cry. Painful cry. The kinda cry where your lip wobbles uncontrollably, and you can’t stop the tears from falling onto your Mac as you type out the words. I know we’re talking about the worst case scenario here but it’s kinda hard not to when you’re faced with the thought of having cancer for the second time in six months. I also think it’s kinda ironic that the Hubby has a kid that he doesn’t want or see, while I’m faced with the possibility of not having kids at all. And let’s face it, with the diseases that he bought home, there’s a fucking good chance that it was him that gave me the sodding HPV virus in the first place. Oh yeah, I never told you that I found out he had a kid while he was on the other side of the world, did I? Lol, I can’t wait to get into that story.

I’m positive on the outside, not letting it phase me and just getting on with life, having a laugh and being the cool, bubbly person people know me as. Inwardly though, I’m a wreck. It’s not even 11:30am right now and I’ve already smoked a herbal little beauty and to be honest, I couldn’t care less if you judge me for it. Two cancer scares in less than six months. I reckon it’s the perfect time to live a little dangerously, don’t you?

On the plus side, I think tonight might be date number four with my Someone New. Maybe tonight I’ll get laid? I’d better get laid. After the treatment on Thursday, I’m not going to be able to have sex for four weeks, or so the pamphlet says. I can’t wait another four weeks to fuck him. It needs to happen tonight. He doesn’t know it yet (I blew him out last night) but he will be getting a little visitor when he finishes work in the form of a very nervous, very frustrated, very playful little Smurf. That’s his nickname for me, by the way. He said this was me: (which I kinda liked)

#SmearForSmear

I need a night of frivolous cuddles with Someone New. I need to feel desired and pretty, like I’m not just one health concern after another. I want him to prove that he will be there to hold my hand through this like Jock couldn’t. That’s not bad, is it? Plus, I really don’t want to wait another four weeks. I’m scared he’ll lose interest and worse than that, I’m scared I’ll lose interest. You know how that seems to happen.

So yeah, that’s what going on in my life right now. Two cancer scares in six months. Except this one is marginally scarier.

Date Number Three. FUCK!

So my Someone New and I, we went on our third date. We didn’t have sex. Almost, but we didn’t. But I can 100% wholeheartedly tell you that I CANNOT keep my hands off this guy. Literally CANNOT keep my hands off him. It was pathetic. I was a pathetic, horny little mess. He loved the attention and said as much but even I know that the behaviour I displayed was very unlike me.

We met (an hour later than agreed) and went for a quick coffee and a piece of cake. Then we did some shopping for our lunch, took a casual stroll back to his new place (he bought a house – immediate improvement from penniless Jock), he showed me around, made me pastrami sandwiches and cups of tea, and then well and truly smooched the pants right off me on his couch.

We were kissing. There was so much kissing. Then he was running his hands up and down my body, pulling me on top of him on the couch, sneakily sliding his hand up my shirt… It’s awkward, don’t get me wrong, but its good awkward; sexy awkward if that even exists? A bit bumpy and grindy, a few slips and falls along the way, but it’s sexy and passionate and you just get caught up in the moment, you know? He stood up and pushed me towards the bedroom and once we were in there, he started to peel off my clothes. First my top went, then my bra, then he turned me around and pushed me back on the bed, taking his shirt off. Down came my jeans, my pants not far behind them. He was down to boxers, gyrating against me, getting ready for the kill….

“I’ve not got any condoms!”

FUUUUUUUUCK! I didn’t take the condoms I had because I was trying so hard not to be a fucking slut and assumed he would have some ready! We’ve already had the condom chat for fucks sake. How come neither of us were prepared? I was already naked at this point so he started to head south, licking, nibbling and flicking his way around my body in ways I was seriously impressed by, and it wasn’t long before I started to feel my legs shake uncontrollably. Someone New just made me cum for the first time. I let him go down on me the first time we slept together, not that we even slept together, and I just don’t do that. It’s such an intimate thing for me, it’s not something I like to do early on. You gotta earn your way to that golden ticket. Afterwards, as I lay there shaking, watching his eyes glide all over my naked body, I freaked out. Excusing myself, I ran straight to the bathroom for a few seconds just to compose myself. I don’t know how I feel about my body these days. I’ve never dated someone, and slept with someone new, sober and skinny. I was sober. I wasn’t even high. Totally, one hundred percent sober, and I didn’t think about running home and blazing up once throughout the entire day! Not even once! I wasn’t nervous, well apart from the first few minutes, but he feels comfortable to me now, nice, comforting almost? We huddled up together on his large couch and just being curled up in a ball next to him, or have him rest his head on my chest, or spooning in that way we do that’s never just spooning, felt like absolute heaven. It’s his smell I think. I have a thing about smells and Someone New’s smell drives me crazy!

He said I was beautiful. He said I had a beautiful body. I tasted good. I felt good. I have a beautiful pussy. Every time I touched him, I could feel his hard-on which brings me nicely to the topic of his penis.

OK so we may not have had condoms but we fooled around. I’m clean, I know that because I was recently tested, and I was dumb… I gave him head. To be fair, he gave me head too! We were both dumb. I don’t care. Glossing over that fact, obviously.

His penis does have a pretty pronounced bend in it to be fair but I love it. He’s not circumcised even though I thought he said he was, he does produce a lot of pre-cum, he cums even more! It’s got some serious girth to it, and its just the perfect length. I have developed somewhat of a connection with his penis. It’s not perfect, it’s perfectly imperfect and I can’t get enough of it. I dropped to my knees, pulls his trousers down and gave him the first full blowjob of his life. He’s never had a girl do it for longer than a few minutes, he’s never cum in a girls mouth, and no I don’t think it was a line. Trust me – you didn’t see the mess he turned into!

I CANNOT wait to fuck this guy. If he thinks my blowjobs are great, he’s gonna have a whale of a time when he gets to actually fuck me. And he really couldn’t compliment by oral skills enough. By the time I had finished with him, I was wetter than I think I’ve ever been and I teased him just a little by letting him have a little feel…

I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m going to fall in love with Someone New. And I think it’s safe to say he feels pretty much the same. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other today, it wasn’t all just me doing it. I’m glad we haven’t slept together yet because it means we have so much left to look forward to, although we definitely crossed a few lines today, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me. I can’t wait for him to feel how much I will clamp around his cock as I cum around it. I just can’t wait to fuck him. That’s all. I just want to fuck him. I’m heading straight to the shops tomorrow to buy hundreds of condoms and I’m going to put them in every coat pocket and handbag just in case. We are not going to have a sexless repeat of date number three, that’s for sure.

So yeah, we didn’t have sex. Maybe I’m the fourth date girl?