cancer update

I sure know how to build suspense, hey?  Let me set the scene, swelteringly hot 4th of July, 2013.  I met my friend Jenna outside the wan chai mtr (and, side-note, can I just say how ironic it is that I go to the lady doctor in wan chai, which is where a large number of my trysts begin).  Thankfully, Jenna came with me, she is good at asking questions and it was just nice to have someone with me.  We were in the waiting room for about an hour when I was finally called into the exam room.  The Doc took out a sheet of paper with a bunch of still shots of my cervix at different stages of the previous pap smear, again, my stomach was not feeling great, especially since i'd had a starbucks earlier and went for the fattiest of drinks with had pudding in the bottom.  Also, Jenna was sitting right beside me, so she got a good look at my cervix too, which was a little strange, but she was cool about it.  He explained all the pictures and said something about a clock to relate where they had taken samples from, I was too in shock over my cervical photo shoot to really understand what he was saying, but main point is I only have a 20-30% chance of it becoming pre-cancerous, so regular screenings every six months, to keep an eye on it, always use a condom during sex...and that means during the whole of sex, not just at the end.  Not too shabby.

Later that evening I went to dinner with some friends to celebrate the 4th of July.  I luckily found an american flag shirt earlier that day and have a little flag from last years 4th.  So, I had planned on this brew house, and told everyone to meet there, but when we got there it was closed down.  I'm really not good at planning.  So, we wandered for a bit and ended up at another brewpub.  I scooted all the condiments together in the middle of the table to create a stand for my flag.  Later on, the owner came over and said he had a proposition for us...this is always a little bit scary when a middle aged man comes up to you and says this, but we heard him out and he just saw that we were celebrating the 4th and offered us a free beer tasting!  A wonderful end to the evening.

Almost...

Now, I have this printout of a series of pictures of my cervix, I kind of want to get it framed and hang it in my apartment.  Jenna even helped me come up with a rhyme so I can remember to always use protection.  If I frame the pictures and write "If you don't have a dome This can't be your home" on it, is that too far??

Kelly and the C Word

Yeah, I'm sure you are expecting a humorous story about me getting called a cunt...or me calling someone else a cunt, but there will be none of that.

I wrote previously that I had gone to the lady doctor to get my yearly check-up and also make sure I'm STD free.  At the end of the visit, they told me they would get the test results for STDs in 4 weeks, and the pap smear results in 6 weeks, as long as no one called me I should be free and clear, but I could come in and pick up my test results anytime after those 6 weeks.  Well, I made it to the end of the 4th week and was overjoyed to not receive a call back (for once not getting called was a great thing!!).  Then, at some point I began getting these missed calls from the clinic.  I assumed they just wanted me to come pick up my results, so I let it go for a couple months.  When I had a day off school a week ago I went in to pick up the results...well surprise!!!  I have HPV, but like the most atypical of cells, meaning I may have cervical cancer.  And what is the cause of cervical cancer, having sex...seriously???!!  Cervix, you are a cunt, and i really, really mean that.

So, I had the biopsy, and its basically a pap smear, but super duper magnified and on a screen for the doctor and you to look at.  I didn't want to look, but I thought, when am I ever going to be able to see my lady bits on the big screen, so I gave it a chance, I didn't even make it through the beginning stages of the doctor sterilizing my cervix when I thought I was going to throw up so i just had to look at the ceiling and wonder why the air wasn't cranked up to keep me from sweating all over the paper mat I was laying on.  The doctor and nurses were really nice, and laughed at all my lame jokes and my extreme reaction to looking at my own cervix.  The nurse told me it was ok to not look, but later on she made me look at some of the solution they were putting on so I wouldn't be frightened if I saw this color later as vaginal discharge.  I gathered my courage and looked at the screen and it was just a really dark liquid, then the doctor said something about it looking like soy sauce...hahahahaha, this is how I know I'm getting a cervical biopsy in Asia.

I get my results on July 4th, America's Independence Day...appropriate.

No Fun Kelly

The Face of Poverty

I remember reading an article a while ago about the face of poverty in America, and it listed some pretty crazy things about what the average poverty stricken family had and didn't have.  Most of them have a refrigerator, microwave and running water.  Well done America, poverty doesn't look nearly as bleak as it could.

Then, there is me in Hong Kong.  The depressed alcoholic I was living with had it out with me for forgetting to take out the trash one morning.  Fair enough, but I apologized and you can only apologize so many times. So, I went to my room and closed the door and took a nap to escape the tirade.  Later, she came and knocked on my door and wanted to have a talk with me.  She said she hadn't been this unhappy since she lived with her emotionally abusive ex-husband.  She was drunk and sobbing when telling me this and she wiped her eyes with a tissue and got tissue bits all over her face.  I told her about the tissue on her face, as tactfully as I could, which resulted in her bursting into even more tears and telling me that's what her ex-husband would say.  I don't get it.  Anyway, so, soon after that I moved out.  I now have a tiny shoe-box of an apartment, but at least its all my own.  I love it, but when I look around I can't help but think of all the things poor people have back in the states that I don't have here.  My apartment is literally a bed and a bathroom.  I have no kitchen, no fridge, no internet (I'm sitting in a park with free government wifi to send this blog post).  More than that, I think I would make a great hobo, within the last month I have worked out in a parking garage because of time constraints and weather conditions, I slept on a friends roof after not being able to work her spare key to get in to sleep on her couch and I know all the shopping centers that will do a courtesy charge of your phone battery.  I would make a damn good hobo, is all I'm saying, take that American poverty.

Champion

I'm not sure, but I think getting a trophy dropped on your head is the opposite of winning in life.

The Stig

Cinco de Messo

Some of my American friends, Nate and Lily, live in this apartment with an amazing rooftop, and they offered to throw a Cinco de Mayo (Chingu de Mexico, for my friends from Korea) party.  It was amazing, they are great hosts and they make a mean margarita!  Of course, smashedness ensued.  Enough so that I sent these pics to about 15 people on my whatsapp.

 I only vaguely remember this conversation with a stranger at a bar, and it could definitely be a false memory, but would I really subconsciously make this up??  I sure hope not.

My last memory from the night is Nate ordering a bucket of beers and usually you are meant to pick one brad of beer, but he pushed for a sampler bucket and we got one of each on the list, the waitress was very confused.  Then, because I had seen waffle fries earlier in the week, it was on my mind and I really wanted to get some...but we were Kowloon side (the more Chinese part of HK) so it was pretty much impossible.  Nate kept trying places, but it just wasn't going to happen.  Instead we popped into a 7/11 and i ended up buying a chicken leg that is in a bag and you heat it up in the microwave...gross, but actually kind of delicious...i'm not proud of myself.

The next morning when I woke up I here is what was in my bag:

a towel I had stolen from the bar (the kind they keep on the bar to soak up all the run over alcohol) with a stick on mustache attached to it.  Coincidentally, everything else in my bag was soaked.