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I’m at the doctor’s. Normally I really like these visits: the white coats, the smell of excellent hygiene and the fact that I know s/he is getting paid, by the government, just to listen to me whinge about my ailment for ten minutes. When I was kid, I would even get a sweet out of the deal.

Today, I don’t feel that same soul-quieting sense of security. Because today, I am going for a cervical smear and I hear it hurts.

I hadn’t realised this until I told my mom, quite proud of myself for being such a responsible adult, and she immediately asked if Girlfriend would be coming with me. ‘To hold my hand’, she said. What? It’s not like I’m giving birth!

When I get called into the examination room, I’m relieved to see that the doctor is a) not a man (because who wants that?) and b) not over 60 so I won’t have to deal with my fear of old people today, phew.

But then things start to get uncomfortable. She asks me, ‘Are you sexually active?’ which always reminds me of creepy sex-ed teachers and bananas and gives me the desire to shout out ‘No sexually, I’m actually passive, I’m a bit fat top-lovin’ bottom!’

When I demurely answer ‘yes’, knowing that its highly unlikely that lesbian sex will come anywhere near her idea of ’sexually active’, and prepare myself for the awkward declaration.

The doctor, without hesitation asks ‘And how many partners has he had?’ Awkward.

‘She’, I correct her. To this she retorts that of course I am low risk for cervical cancer and I should know that. Is she suggesting that I’m wasting her time? I’m beginning to hate this woman.

The next thing I know I’m lying on the bed with no underwear, feeling incredibly anxious and thinking that this is what the first time having het sex must feel like.

She tells me to relax as she waves a giant pelican beak shaped instrument in my face explaining how it will force my vaginal walls apart so she can reach inside and slough off some of my uterus cells.

Crikey, she actually used those words: ‘force’ and ’slough’. Ever heard of a euphemism, madam?

Not that sugar-coating the issue would have helped, nothing could have prepared me for that pain. If I ever considered giving birth (honestly, the thought has never even crossed my mind) I’m certainly convinced now that I never will. I might even start campaigning against it as a human rights issue such was the absolute gut-wrenching pain of this experience. I won’t go into it, I don’t want to scare you off taking the test.

When it’s all over, I ask a few interested questions like, ‘Does the virus actually travel on the tip of a penis?’ and we discuss Jade Goody.

She also tells me that you can also get it from warty fingers. She takes my disbelief for incomprehension and assumes I’m the kind of lesbian who doesn’t actually have sex. ‘You know if you have warty fingers inside you’. Oh thanks for the explanation, there I was thinking I could get it from holding hands.

‘Well as long as you can’t get it from a dildo, I’ll be fine’, I say, and walk out.

Faith Bosworth

Note: It is suggested that all women between the ages 20-65 (yes, even lesbians) should have a smear done every 3-5 years as a preventative measure against cervical cancer. For more information see the NHS website.

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