Tears

I was with Dr. C today for colpo, one of the gyne oncologists. She’s tall and slim with flowing braids always arranged elegantly. Her belly is unmistakably swollen with pregnancy. She a bit more gentle than some of the other straight-to-business gyne oncs. However, as it is with doctors across the planet, everyone is always rushed and has an important meeting they need to rush off to. All the patients today were HIV positive, not uncommon as cervical cancer is much more prevalent in these women. The first woman was a 32 year-old, here for cryotherapy for her CIN II. It was my first cryo experience and I know they say one of the benefits is that you don’t need any anesthetic, but dang that looked uncomfortable! Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, then weakly she asked us to stop. She lay there dazed afterwards. It must seem rather barbaric. Someone putting a gun shaped instrument in your vagina, which is attached by a tube to a huge CO2 cylinder with a massive monkey wrench on the top to turn it on and off. I knew exactly what was going on and I couldn’t help but envision a medieval torture chamber with a few modern gadgets.

The second woman was slight, her bright turquoise dress flowed to the floor and her hair was combed up into an Afro twice the size of her head. As we broke the news that the biopsy had shown no cancer she clapped her hands together twice and hooted with joy. Her wide smile transformed her face. Her tears were not silent, she thanked us and thanked us and thanked us again. Dancing as she left.

The next came in shimmering in a dress of gold rimmed yellow, black and white. Her news was not as good. Infiltrative carcinoma. We admitted her for a work-up and to set her up for the OR if she was an operative case or for palliative care if not. She just sat in shock. Then tears came with anger as she was shuffled out of the room. I asked about radiation and chemotherapy, Dr. C explained that those were treatments you had to pay for so they were rarely an option.

The next three women played out the same scene, almost exactly the same story. There were no more tears of joy today.

I plodded out of the hospital in the afternoon, turned up the hill and along the dusty road under the sweltering sun. A bit defeated. Sometimes you have the emotional energy to process it all. To fight overwhelming despair. Other days, you can’t. So you just escape.

I had a beautiful cappuccino. Sitting at a café in the shade with a warm breeze, watching the world go by. Overcome by gratefulness. For espresso. For shade. For such resilient, brave women. For the privilege I have to witness their stories. For the hope that I have.

Tomorrow I’ll yell indignantly at injustice again.