“When will I have my birthday again?”

And who can blame her? I have distinct memories of wishing I could attend the same big kid elementary school as my older brother. Then in high school, I remember crossing off the days I would no longer be a bottom feeding freshman.

Is there an innate desire to yearn for what lies ahead? I suppose I raised this question because I have never seen a child say, “I love being ten. I wish I could be ten forever.”

I know I certainly never felt that way. Time seemed to pass at a turtles pace throughout childhood, always looking forward to the next holiday or day off from school. It was not until I hit my mid-twenties that I wished timed would slow down.  Actually, just freeze for a while.  The prospect of thirty was not a welcome one.

However, thirty came and went, with plenty of milestones passed along the way. Things such as buying a home… twice, having a child, moving across the country, and switching careers. Events that seemingly accelerated the passing of years.

Last year has been no different. In a blink of an eye, my baby turned four, our family went from making ends meet and saving money to unemployment and digging deep into our life savings.  After a year long struggle with trying to conceive we have finally been rewarded with an early baby bump.

However, what I have learned since I was young and wishing I could be madly in love forever, is that the only constant in life is change.

Time stands still for no one, and there are no guarantees for tomorrow. Although the light at the end of the tunnel may represent new possibilities, it will not be the only dark and narrow passageway that lies ahead.

Last week, after a year of struggling with precancerous cervical cells and treatments, my pap smear returned with unexpected NORMAL results (even though my last biopsy four months ago yielded abnormal cells).

My doctor and practitioners have reassured me that this sometimes just happens.

Somehow I’ve found the light.  Or perhaps it found me.

Either way, I am acutely aware that this may not last forever.

But for now, I am basking in the warmth.

And for that I am grateful.

Grateful for today.

Before settling down in Boston, I was a nomad. In the past 5 years, I’ve accumulated approximately 12 different addresses. I think.  The majority of the moving was for my job as a traveling nurse.  And with many of the relocation’s, I had to switch doctors.  Yes, that kind of doctor, the one that only women have the privilege of baring it all for visiting each year.

If you add up all of the Ob/Gyn’s who have *ahem* examined me, there is a rather large handful of people who have seen it all. Seriously ALL.

This does not even include the rally at Babisodes’ delivery. When I endured 24-hours of labor and pushed for a millennium, to then have my doctor threaten to use a Vacuum if Babisodes didn’t progress with more pushing.  As a Neonatal ICU nurse, I understood the new implications this high-risk procedure brought to the table.  Only this time, the tables were turned, and now I was the patient.  Within seconds, my delivery room turned into a hospital staff meeting, with 10-12 people all honing in on my hoo-haa.  Within 3 more pushes, she was out.

Anyhow, fast forward to last Friday when I had a follow up pelvic procedure.  After the usual blood pressure check and weigh in, I was escorted to an exam room.  Behind a curtain, my hands trembled as I undressed from the waist down, and then sat atop the crispy, paper-lined exam table, frozen in fear.

*knock-knock-knock*

*Two sets of footsteps enter and stand just outside the privacy curtain*

“Hi Sandy, it’s Dr. Hoo-Haa checker.  Is it alright if a medical student observes with me today?”

*Completely caught off guard*

“Uh…O…o…okay.”

Before you think I’m completely nuts, please remember I was a nursing student years ago, and can appreciate how imperative it is for training medical professionals to observe clinical procedures.  However, this was not a bandage removal, or a blood draw.  They were going south of the equator.  My equator.  I was just.not.thinking.

“Hi Sandy, how are you today?  This is Mr. OhMyGawd-AreYouEvenOldEnoughToDriveYet-MedicalStudent.”

“Okay Sandy, I need you to lie back and scoot your pelvis all the way down to the edge of the table and let your knees fall the to side.”

*dies*

“Oh, Mr. Medical Student, come here and look through here (0.002 nanometers away from her vajayjay). If you look along her cervix…blah…blah…blah”

*HolyJeebusPleaseJustKillMeNow.  NOW!  Can someone please just knock me out…STAT!*

“Sandy, I see an area I’d like to biopsy.  It may be uncomfortable for a second, okay? OneTwoThree…”

Never in my life had I wished for man parts like I did in those 20 minutes (or at least for a full bottle of vodka).

All kidding aside, I am on pins and needles awaiting my test results.

But I’m also rocking myself in a corner, suppressing all memory of dating medical students his age eons ago.